


my soul yearns even when my body yields

by enaxii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood, Body Horror, Bullying, Dubious happy ending, Eye Trauma, Gore, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s04e02 Reunion, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Sheith Big Bang 2018, Torture, alright time to tag all of the terrible stuff, and also post-kerberos mission, i guess, i mean you'll see when you get there, it really depends on who's perspective you're looking at it from, minor mention of concussion, or just my writing, plotted before season 5 and written mostly before season 7, so a lot of this doesnt go with canon, there is also zarkon and haggar but uh, they are pretty minor characters, what i mean is that im not sure if it's a panic attack? but im tagging it just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enaxii/pseuds/enaxii
Summary: It's strange what persists through time and deceit and death. Aphrodite would never let herself be beaten easily and you don't need soulmarks to love.Or, Keith and Shiro as they navigate the complicated mess of their lives, from the Garrison to the end of the world, and find out exactly how far they will go for each other.Lo͝ve b͢eąt̸s a͝l͡l, even in d̴ea̡th̴.̛





	1. (1) i’d tear down the stars to bring you back

i’d tear down the stars to bring you back

_it’s killing me when you’re away_

for you i’ll go through hell with a smile

_nothing is worth your pain_

 

Everyone has a soulmark. Something, a name, a picture, a phrase, something that marks your soulmate, your lover for life, and perhaps even in death. Everyone has a soulmark.

Keith doesn’t have one.

\---

The first time Keith meets Shiro, he punches him. It’s not exactly Keith’s proudest moment, but at least it makes for a pretty good conversation starter. Keith had just been examining the red hoverbike parked outside one of the diners in town, maybe with one or two thoughts on whether it’s possible to hotwire it, when a hand suddenly lands on his shoulder. Admittedly, the guilty musings already have Keith on edge more than he usually is, and any sudden contact is an instant set-off.

He doesn’t even register it, letting out a muffled yell, before his fist is flying, contacting the side of the other man’s face. Keith falls backwards onto his butt and the man stumbles back, rubbing at his jaw.

The two stare at each other, just for a moment, Keith collapsed on the floor and the man just a step back, when the other laughs ruefully.

“Not sure if I deserved that, but it was a pretty good punch.”

Keith’s eyes widen even more, sudden fears of retaliation and something else he can’t place pushing his body up from the ground and he breaks into a run.

He ignores the loud cry of “Hey, wait!” from behind him, focusing all his energy to get away from the scene of the crime. It’s later, back at his foster home, locked in his own little corner of the room as he tries to tune out the other kids’ ruckus, that he wonders his heart is still beating so fast.

The second time they meet, Keith is loitering around outside a cafe, just trying to pass time as much as he can before he has to return to the home.

“Oh hey, it’s you!”

Keith glances up, suddenly panicked. Sure enough, there is the man from that other day, the man that he punched. And then ran away from. Without apologising.

The man doesn’t exactly _look_ upset, but Keith knows how misleading facial expressions can be.

So Keith runs.

The third time they meet, it’s at school. It’s during some career guidance week, and the Galaxy Garrison nearby had sent someone to talk, in hopes of recruiting some aspiring fighters or astronauts or something along those lines. The moment the Garrison representative walks through the doors, Keith’s heart stutters, stops, then decides to start running a marathon.

He can’t believe his bad luck. First, he punches a man and runs away. Next, the man he punched keeps reappearing. And to put the cherry on top of the whole rotten cake, the man he punched is a _military official._

Keith watches with an uneasy dread as his teacher introduces the man as “Takashi Shirogane”, watches with an uneasy dread as he laughs and insists that he just be called “Shiro” instead.

“Shiro” stands at the front of the class and fiddles with his computer, pulling up a slideshow onto the projector screen.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Everyone else mumbles the greeting back, but Shiro’s smile doesn’t seem to dim. Perhaps he is used to the lacklustre response. He continues on with fervour, speaking of the Galaxy Garrison and piloting with the sort of passion that you can’t find in anyone except for those who truly love their job.

No one else seems to agree with him, with most of the class ending up secretly entertaining themselves otherwise. Whoever remains hangs off of Shiro’s every word, ogling his slides and his face. In all honesty, Keith thinks that the talk is pretty interesting — it’s really an acquired taste. But something else calls to him, and Keith finds himself drawn to Shiro’s voice. There is a strange quality to it that pulls at his attention and doesn’t let him go.

It’s very frustrating.

In the end, Keith knows more about the Galaxy Garrison than he has ever wanted to know. Communications and engineering are absolutely nothing to Keith, but the section on piloting is probably the only that manage to grab at him without any strange, outside influences shaped like the man in front of the class. Keith hungers for every bit of information the slides can give even if he knows that the possibility of him actually _becoming_ one, with his background, is basically impossible.

Shiro wraps up his talk, gradually pulling back the attention of the class to his presentation. With the school day ending, most people’s spirits have returned to the classroom, and more than a few are beginning to look interested. When the officer busts out a meme and some puns, a ripple of groans spread through the class. Almost unwittingly, Keith feels the corner of his lips curl.

“Any questions?”

The class is more awake now. It seems that Shiro has managed to win over most of their hearts in the last few slides, or at least most people seem to have finally noticed how good Shiro looks in his uniform.

(Keith pinches himself to get rid of that thought.)

One of the girls at the front row raises her hand. Keith notes that she is one of the few that has actually been listening to the whole thing.

“Have you found your soulmate?”

She seems significantly more preoccupied about his love life and looks than actually going to space, so Keith immediately recalibrates his impression of her.

A hush falls over the room, all awaiting his answer. Shiro’s smile slips, just a little, and he laughs.

“Not yet.”

Immediately, everyone starts whispering among themselves.

_“Man, whoever that person is, they sure are lucky…”_

_“Wouldn’t it be great if_ I _was his soulmate…?”_

For some reason, the comment makes Keith bristle, but he tries his best to clamp it down. The question isn’t even directed at _him_ . Why should _he_ care about some random guy’s soulmate?

Hearing that Shiro hasn’t found his soulmate yet makes Keith shamefully happy. It’s one thing to be upset over a question directed at someone else’s soulmate; it’s another to be happy over said person not finding his soulmate yet.

The bell rings, then. Amongst general chatter, everyone packs up and leaves, and Keith lets himself follow the crowd to outside.

He is about to leave for the public library at the town centre when a flash of red catches his eye. It is the same hoverbike he saw the other day.

Shiro’s bike.

The curiosity from the other day hasn’t exactly been sated, and Keith can’t resist himself, drawing closer to the bike again.

Of course, history repeats itself again.

“Hey there.”

Keith doesn’t shriek this time, but his hand does fly backwards, less in the shape of a fist and more like the flailing fin of a whale out of water. He gives praise to everything above when Shiro manages to dodge it, this time.

“Is this going to become a thing now, then?”

He sounds amused.

“Look, I didn’t do anything to your bike, okay?”

Keith’s words come out snappish, just a little more than peeved at being the butt of whatever joke Shiro is laughing at.

He holds up his hands in defeat.

“I know, I know. You’re one of the few people actually listening just now, aren’t you? Think you got what it takes to ride a bike?”

Keith’s mouth falls open, then he narrows his eyes, eyeing the bike and Shiro.

He wants to tell Shiro to leave him alone. Something else falls out of his mouth instead.

“Why are you doing this?”

_Why do you want to help me?_

Keith bites the inside of his cheek, cringing at how vulnerable he sounds. Shiro has absolutely no reason to want to do this, he probably doesn’t understand what Keith means by that question, maybe he really _is_ just a nice person and now he’s screwed that up-

“I think everyone deserves a chance.”

Keith’s head snaps up.

“ _What?_ ”

Shiro’s smile is crooked, and Keith wonders how much he understands.

No one speaks, and then Shiro changes the topic back to the bike.

“I won’t bite. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kidnap you or anything.”

That is literally the least reassuring thing that Keith has ever heard, but somehow, somewhere in him, Keith trusts this man with his strange tuft of hair. A warm part of him, something he thought had disappeared with his father, seems to have finally woken back up.

Shiro gets onto the bike, and holds out his hand.

Keith takes it.

\---

The lights behind Keith vanishes as he pulls the hatch shut. The rooftop is empty, but he knows that Shiro is coming. A quick text from the said man had informed Keith that a staff meeting had run long, and that he would be on the way soon.

With the desert at night, a cold breeze brushes across the rooftop, the chilly weather letting itself be known. Keith’s jacket flutters as he settles down at the edge, his legs dangling freely.

And he waits, letting himself sway in the wind.

Light floods behind him, bringing with it some distant chatter, and then whatever noise that had filtered through is quickly muted again, the glow in the background fading to nothing.

“Hey.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, touch light but firm, Shiro squatting down beside Keith. He draws his legs back up, then scootches back, a soft smile finally appearing on his face.

“Hey,” Keith repeats, “the meteor shower is about to start soon.”

As he speaks, the first streak of light crosses through the dark sky, and then more and more, like the heavens are raining with light. Keith lowers himself onto his back, with Shiro following suit soon after. They are silent, in quiet appreciation as they watch the meteors dance across the sky.

It’s beautiful.

Keith turns his head, watching Shiro’s awestruck look. His mouth slightly open, eyes shining as bright as the meteors reflected in them. The man has probably seen quite a number of meteor showers with his career track, but he never ceased to be amazed by the display.

 _He’s_ beautiful.

As the stray thought passes through his mind, Keith feels like he’s been slapped, jerking him out of his daze.

 _You have no chance. You don’t have a soulmate, and Shiro does. If you really love him, don’t even_ try _to take him away from his destined other half._

He turns back, losing his smile somewhere along the way, his expression becoming a painful contemplative.

“You okay?”

Keith startles, head snapping to the side.

Shiro’s face is lit up with a soft glow, and Keith feels his heart shudder in his chest.

“I’m fine.”

Tense, Keith’s words come out clipped, and automatically, he winces. Shiro immediately diverts full attention to him, concern written across his face and his voice soft.

“Keith-”

Keith jumps to his feet as the meteors behind him die out, darkness sweeping across the roof, the same darkness locking his heart back behind so many years’ worth of walls.

“It’s fine. ’m just tired.”

Shiro pushes himself up, resting on his arms. The darkness shrouds Keith’s expression from Shiro, but the light from the Garrison behind them has Shiro’s on display. For a moment, they just stand there, holding each other’s gaze.

Looking away first, Keith’s voice is almost inaudible.

“I have to go.”

Go where?

Shiro looks at him, just a little longer, before the corners of his eyes crinkle, in a small, but tired smile.

“Go ahead. I’ll stay up here a little while longer.”

Unbidden, the words slip out, just barely a breath snatched away by the wind.

“Yes, sir.”

Keith slips back through the hatch, checking for officers and guards on his trip back to his room only from force of habit.

In bed, Keith sits still for a long, long, time, wondering who Shiro’s soulmate is, and when his heart wrenches painfully, Keith spends all the time left till sleep trying to rid himself of his thoughts.

The next morning brings no relief, the lock crumbling but back in place. 

\---

Whispers of conversations float by as Keith ducks through the hallways, attempting to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Being one of the best pilots the Garrison has seen in its whole history, mixing it with his “incredibly unlikeable personality”, being a first year _and_ being the best of friends with the Garrison’s Golden Boy is not a good combination for popularity -- Keith is not well liked. A glare or two thrown his way, a foot in his path, a shove of the shoulder and muttered names, it’s nothing Keith isn’t used to. That is not to say that he takes it silently (because he _doesn’t_ ), but he promised Shiro that he will at least try his best to _avoid_ fights. So here he is, scurrying down the corridor to his next class, glaring at anyone who even looks at him wrong.

The door nears, and Keith tries his best to remain optimistic that maybe the heavens have finally taken pity upon him.

Keith’s foot catches and he tumbles to the floor, books flying out his hand spectacularly. A snigger follows as someone _accidentally_ kicks him in his side while he is down. Literally. The same laugh disappears down the corridor as Keith collects his things, glowering at the floor. _Deep breaths, Kogane_.

Taking a moment outside to gather himself, Keith opens the classroom door. His teacher continues to fiddle with whatever he is doing at the teacher’s table, ignoring Keith. While the same could be said for most of the other students, too wrapped up in their own conversations, a select few, including one that sits behind Keith, looks up at him when he enters and almost _hisses_. Incredible.

Keith slides into his seat and drops his books onto the table with a sigh. It’s flight history right now, and they are always boring. Right after is lunch, perhaps simultaneously his most hated and most loved period. One, because there are a lot of people at lunch, and he _hated_ people. Two, because there are a lot of people at lunch, but those people includes Shiro and Matt, arguably his only friends at the Garrison. A sad fact, if he isn’t used to it.

The bell rings right as two cadets crash through the door. (What are their names again? Leo and Harry?) The duo makes their way to their seats, where their deskmate seems to ignore their existence altogether.

And with a monotonous drone, the day continues on.

\---

The bell shrills as the teacher struggles to complete his last point. Like he can sense the growing resentment of the class, he heaves a sigh and dismisses them. What can be said as a tsunami of people washes out of the class, leaving but a few straggling palm trees behind.

Keith is one of those palm trees.

After depositing his books, Keith makes his way to the cafeteria. The previous tsunami appears to have taken residence here instead. Weaving through the crowds, Keith manages to obtain a choice selection of mac and cheese (always a favourite) before spotting an absolutely beaming Shiro, and Matt. Matt appears to be hiding behind his food and trying to make himself disappear into his seat, pointedly looking away from the wildly waving _senior officer_.

Keith approached (with caution) towards said senior officer, avoiding his hands and seating himself beside Shiro. The conversation stilts slightly, Shiro’s hand resting on his shoulder and eyes asking questions about last night. Avoiding Matt’s curious look and Shiro’s worried one, Keith pulls the conversation back on track. A truly amazing change, when just slightly over a month ago, any attempt at conversation would result in a stony silence and, if the guy annoyed him enough, macaroni to the face. Now here he is, attempting to _start_ a conversation.

It takes a while, but eventually, Matt cracks a dubious science joke, and conversation carries on.

Lunch is, as it usually is, one of the only enjoyable things in Keith’s day. Something else he looks forward to, however, is flight simulation class.

Even if you know that you are still on the ground and most certainly not plummeting a few thousand meters per second and/or expertly evading the outcrops of rock in the digital terrain, there’s just something exhilarating about being in the air, swerving your way through the obstacles that, should you even _graze_ them, might send you straight to your death.

Keith loves it.

It’s almost worth sitting through the previous hours of utter bullshit (with an hour’s break between, thank goodness, or Keith might scream) just to get to the end of the day, prepping for the flight simulation, and walking into the cockpit.

It’s here, in the sim, that for these few precious minutes, Keith can just forget everything, his troubles, his unimpressed teammates and just _fly_. He could throw away the stupid crush, his stupid non-existent soulmark, and his stupid worries and let himself go.

Keith lives for these moments. When the inevitable end comes, it comes as a jolt as the systems powers down, “Simulation Passed” blinking in the corner. His body almost seems to be crying out, yearning for the sky once more. But Keith would stumble out of the cockpit, slightly disoriented from the lights, ignore the murderous looks and move on. He always does, anyway.

Today is no different. Keith squints at the bright lights of the hallway outside the simulator, ignoring the “New Best!” behind him. He’s shoved by the pilot of the team walking in after him, but Keith takes it in stride. He is almost always in his best mood right after a simulation, and he isn’t about to let some asshole ruin it now. Besides, all in all, today has been a pretty good day.

Of course, with Keith’s kind of luck, that jinxes it.

He sits through the other runs, then a debrief, and everyone's on their way, one last hour of recreational time before curfew. The class disbands in the locker room, most people leaving in twos and threes.

Homework calls, and Keith makes his way back to his room.

As Keith steps around the corner, a vice-like grip closes around his arm, and he’s shoved into the wall. Scowling, Keith shakes his arm free before turning to face his tormentors yet again.

“What. Do you want.”

Standing behind him is his classmate. Before everything had gone to hell (that is, before he had touched the flight simulator, so it’s actually not that bad of a hell), he had introduced himself as Julian. He is about the only person whose name Keith remembers, if only because Julian has bothered him a record-breaking number of times. (And admittedly, he had hoped to make a friend and was a little relieved that someone tried. Look where _that_ got him.)

“Maybe you could start by getting the fuck out of here. We don’t need _gutter trash_ here.”

Keith is long above this kind of bait, or so he tells himself.

“If I’m gutter trash, at least I was something useful, once. You were always just a waste of space.”

Julian pinks, fixing Keith with an evil eye.

“ _You_ don’t get the right to be _snarky_ to me. You’re a fucking first year, just like the rest of us- there’s no way that you could have gotten those scores on your own. Always acting high and mighty just because you can pull off a few manoeuvres better than the rest of us. We _all_ know that you’re just a filthy cheat-”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s an unspoken _“Try again, asshole.”_ behind it.

In all honesty, what Julian’s implying isn’t something that Keith not used to hearing. Lying, cheating, bribing, _currying favours_ \- throughout his life, from the foster home to the Garrison, it never changes. Keith doesn’t care much about it, anymore.

_(“Walk away. If anyone tries to provoke you, take deep breaths, ignore them and just walk away.” Keith nurses his bruised knuckles, scowling at Shiro’s words.)_

Walk away. Yeah, he can do that.

Turning his back on Julian is extremely satisfying.

Keith can’t see his face, but he can definitely imagine it reddening with rage.

“You…! You’re just like _him_ , aren’t you?!”

Keith jerks to a stop.

Pleased to have gotten a reaction, Julian pushes on, his grin wide.

“ _Takashi Shirogane_ . Garrison’s golden boy, isn’t he? No one with an ounce of talent would want to hang out with you! There’s no way he could have gotten to where he is now without some _favours_ , huh? I bet he’s _wonderful_ in bed-”

In his defence, Julian egged him on. In his prosecution, Keith threw the first punch. Ten minutes later, it doesn’t matter as he finds himself in Commander Iverson’s office.

The officer that found them, with Julian’s friends knocked out and Julian himself in a headlock, finishes his report before being dismissed by Iverson.

The room remains silent, with only the faint hum from the air-conditioning.

Iverson crosses his arms, standing by his table. The room is now empty sans him and Keith. Julian and company is in the medical bay for treatment of his significantly more pressing injuries (a dislocated wrist, a broken nose, maybe a loose tooth, and multiple bruises and assorted wounds). The commander side-eyes him, as if winding himself up, then turns and slams his hands onto his table. The pens rattle in their holders.

Iverson’s lecture starts with a snarl.

Keith tunes out most of it, glaring down at his shoes. He’s still fuming from the fight, embers still spitting sparks at whoever dares to come close.

“Do you understand, Cadet?!”

Keith turned his head up as Iverson finishes, fixing him with a look, barely bordering on disrespect.

“Yes, sir.”

Iverson narrows his eyes, but shakes his head, fist clenched on the table.

“Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

\---

“I heard what happened.”

Keith grunts and places his book down, spine up, before turning around to face Shiro. He had anticipated this happening the moment the officer shouted from around the corner last evening. The details are probably all over the Garrison now, because there’s nothing more interesting than a fight, especially one involving Garrison’s “hotshot” pilot. Shiro crosses his arms, his expression dancing between disapproval and worry.

“Word is that you were defending my honour.”

Keith scowls at the wall behind Shiro.

“He had it coming for him. I tried to leave, alright?”

Shiro exhales, before pulling up a chair next to Keith, where he is currently seated at a library table.

“And I’m proud of you for doing that. But you know you need to control your emotions better. If you get another strike on your record, you’re out of the programme.”

“I‘m sorry,” Keith grumbles.

His mind decides to take a moment and remind him of their promise, not too long after his first fight, once more on the rooftop. Keith had said that he would try his best not to get into fights for the rest of the year, and felt embarrassed when Shiro lit up like the sun.

One thing Keith _hates_ is a broken promise, and he feels like the apology is directed at that, too, even though it’s too simple to make up for it, even though there’s no way Shiro that can know that he’s apologising for this, too.

Shiro frowns, like he understands it anyway, and Keith looks away.

“I really appreciate what you did. But what he said — it’s really nothing new.”

Those words relight the embers into a burning fire in Keith, bringing quick anger back to the surface.

“Well, it shouldn’t be! You are the best person I’ve ever met! You don’t deserve to have all of these rumours and they’re idiots for spreading all these lies about you!” Keith snaps.

Frozen in place, Shiro blinks up at Keith.

Belatedly, Keith realises that he had stood up somewhere in the middle of his short speech, and everyone’s staring at him.

For an awful moment, Shiro just stares at him, mouth slightly agape, and then it’s like he suddenly reboots when he jerks in his seat. Keith can almost swear he heard a start-up chime. Shiro’s cheeks pink, and he laughs bashfully as he rubs the back of his head.

“I-I mean, you didn’t- you don’t have to get into fights for me-”

He looks infuriatingly cute, hiding his face in the corner of his jacket when he stumbles over his words. The thought is guilty, but suddenly, Keith feels light enough to let it pass.

The two engage in some small talk (Matt had gotten permission to tinker with the sim and wanted both Shiro and Keith to try out the new and improved flight simulator, or something), exchanging stories about teachers in staff rooms and in the classrooms. It’s a relief, honestly. He seems to have forgotten all about the other night, or is at least willing to let it go.

If they could talk forever, they would, but eventually, Keith has to study. He picks up his book and waves it in front of Shiro’s face.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, _sir_ , I’ve got an exam to study for.”

Shiro laughs, a light sound, before getting up, ruffling Keith’s hair, pulling his hand back before Keith can bat it away.

“Remember to stay out of trouble, then, Cadet.”

Keith mockingly salutes. But as Shiro leaves, the cheerful atmosphere seems to have been taken with him. A heavy air settles over the still room.

_I’ll come back for you. I promise._

“Shut up.” Keith grimaces into the book as his father’s last words to him come back, his mind unhelpfully digging out the only other promise that Keith had held close to his heart.

Famous last words, indeed. _I’ll come back for you_ , only that he never did. He had left the six-year-old in the small shack in the desert to fend for his own. He had left Keith alone in the small shack in the desert, with a knife, barely any supplies, and monsters under his bed and in his closet.

_I’ll come back for you. I promise._

Keith slams the book shut, ignoring the dirty glares in his direction and the voice in his head that has started to sound less and less like his father’s, and more like _someone else_.

( _“I won’t leave you.”_ )

Perhaps it isn’t too late to find Matt and take him up on his offer for a test run on the sim.

Keith starts towards the sim. He expects Matt to be there, and he isn’t disappointed, spotting him still tinkering at the control panel, code flashing across the screen too rapidly for Keith to decipher. Light almost seems to glint off the science officer’s lenses, the room almost completely silent if not for the soft sounds of the keyboard and the gentle humming of the simulator. The atmosphere’s almost peaceful.

Of course, the moment is ruined when Matt catches sight of Keith, hovering uncertainly at the entrance of the simulator.

“Oh! Hey, Keith! I didn’t expect you to show up. Shiro told me that you weren’t coming because you had an exam to study for?” Matt waves him over.

“I… wanted a study break.”

Matt pauses to study the strange tone Keith says that in, but then grins wickedly as he pushes up his spectacles.

“I guess we’ll see. Who knows? Maybe one of the best pilots here would breeze right through. But just a word of warning, at the standard this baby is set at, it might not be much of a break.”

Keith grins right back.

“We’ll see about that.”

Matt laughs, then backs out of the sim.

“Well, good luck, then, ace pilot.”

The door slides shut behind Matt, and the room darkens. Keith settles his hands on the controls, waiting for the sim to start.

_Beginning simulation…_

The screen slowly lights up, in dark blues and purples, showing Keith the terrain that he is going to be flying in today. The planet’s surface is a dull grey, spires rising into the sky. The skies twinkle with stars, but the stars themselves are barely visible under the lashing rain. It pelts down, blurring the screen till Keith can hardly make out what is in front of him. It’s just a fog of grey.

Keith narrows his eyes, his mouth beginning to lift up in the corners.

This is a challenge he is looking forward to.

\---

Keith walks out of the sim, eyes shining. His hands still tremble slightly from gripping onto the controls too tightly, but his face is a sea of wonder.

Matt wears a similar expression as he rattled off about some of the more impressive moves Keith had to pulled to get out of the way. In the end, Keith failed the sim after an unexpected spurt of lava launched him through a spire, but it is still one of the most amazing sims he has had the honour to try out. Trust Matt to surprise him again, indeed.

“That. Was. _Incredible_ ! It would have taken more experienced pilots at least a few _months’_ worth of practice for them to be able to get to where you were, and you got it on your first try! Un _believable_!”

Matt continues to gush over some fancy manoeuvres, making notes on a clipboard he had magically procured during Keith’s time in the sim.

“Wait till Shiro sees this. He’s going to-”

The rest of Matt’s sentence disappears down the corridor with him as he presumably goes to get Shiro. Keith, now with nothing to do and no overenthusiastic scientists to entertain, leans against the outside of the sim as he waits for Matt to return from his quest.

The area returns to silence. There’s no one else in the sim or the vicinity, with most of the cadets studying for the upcoming written exams. With practicals in the sim set at a later date, most people think that it’s better to study for the written exams first. They’re not wrong, and Keith winces at the size of his engineering textbook that waits for him back at the library.

When Keith hears footsteps approaching the sim, he pushes himself off the sim wall, thinking that it’s Matt returning with his prize.

But the footsteps are heavy. They’re too heavy for it to belong to the slightly scrawny Matt, and they sound different from Shiro’s, who, despite his build, manages to sound like a cat. Besides, there are more than two sets of footfalls coming. Matt would never bring anyone else without Keith’s permission, knowing his discomfort around people other than the duo.

The people approaching are not Matt and Shiro.

Keith knows that it is very possible that it’s just another group of cadets looking for a way to destress after studying. He isn’t, after all, the only person to enjoy the feeling of being in the air. The love of the sky _is_ a big reason people come to the Garrison.

But there is a just a drop of unease settling in his gut, and his gut has never been wrong. Keith withdraws into the shadows in the corner of the room, hiding himself behind one of the walls. It’s too late to try to sneak out now, the footsteps coming closer and closer.

The door open and voices spill over and into the threshold.

“Shit, he’s not here. Are you sure you saw him come in?”

Someone mumbles a reply back to the speaker.

“Well, then maybe he’s somewhere in this room. Find him!”

Keith shrinks back a little behind his wall. It’s obvious now, who it is. The voice belongs to one of Julien’s lackeys, specifically one that he had knocked out yesterday. The guy must be here for revenge.

Keith’s options are limited. Of course, he can attempt to fight his way out, but after looking around the corner, whatever small hope he had of winning any fight is instantly squashed. A whole group of eight roams around the entrance, and Keith recognises some of them as relatively competent fighters. Keith might be able to hold his own, but even he has his limits, and eight fighters at once is a little much.

He has to sneak out.

Keith lets his eyes drift around the familiar room, plotting out his escape route. There’ a bitter taste in his mouth, a part of him itching to fight it out. The small, angry, part of him, built up from years of fighting for himself. So what if he couldn’t win? Why does he have to back down now?

_So what if he dies?_

In the end, none of that mattered. A sudden shout pulls Keith out of his thoughts in time to feel himself be lifted up by the collar of his shirt. At that moment, Keith curses his height (or lack thereof) as he struggles in the air, attempting to get himself free. Although he succeeds with a certain kick to a particular extremely sensitive area, the others have been given time to get over.

In the light of the simulator, the others tower over Keith. The room seems to disappear behind the human wall. There is nothing left but him and his eight assailants.

This is something he learned a long time ago, something he knows deep in his bones. Survive or be destroyed. Victory or death.

Unlike Julian, the leader doesn’t seem to want to talk. With a roar, the group springs themselves on Keith. He whirls around, trying his best to keep up with the eight attackers. A jab, a punch, a block, Keith tries everything he knows. But as he had realised the moment he saw the group, and understood the moment the fight started, Keith is outnumbered. The fighters don't just fight with their fists, either. Enough of them used their brains, and they catch Keith on the cheek, his arm, his side. Blood flows freely from Keith’s nose, dripping onto the pristine simulator floor.

Keith manages to take down four before one of them downs him with a well-timed swipe at his feet. With a cry, Keith crashes onto the floor, landing on his right shoulder. Immediately, pain shoots through his whole arm, paralysing him for just a second too long. The group converges on him, snarling and smirking and laughing and laughing and-

Suddenly, Keith isn’t in the simulator room anymore. He is ten years old again, surrounded by his classmates, but none of them have faces. All he can hear is laughter and laughter and laughter as they laughed and laughed and laughed at him and they are laughing at him and _what are they laughing about?_

He is plunged into the cold, cold, cold, and he is sinking deeper and deeper and deeper and-

That is the day when his walls start to build, brick by brick, insult by insult, and that is the day his foster parents start to return him and _the day his parents finally died in his heart._

_I’ll come back for you. I promise._

How many times had his father promised that? How many times had his mother promised that? How many times had he stared out the window on the way back to the centre, hoping to catch a glimpse of his parents, walking together and smiling and coming to find him? To protect him? How many times had he poured over stories of mothers and fathers lifting cars and tender kisses, trying to imagine his own doing the same to him? _How many times had he been promised, but never fulfilled?_

Somewhere, there are footsteps, and a shout. The floor around him is blurred with blood. Is this the simulator room? Keith can’t tell. Where is he? _Where is he?_ He just wants to go home-

Then he is lifted, and he hears a voice, _his_ voice (who? _who?_ ). Keith can’t understand what words are said, but his body seems to relax even as the pain tears him apart.

(It doesn’t matter _who_. He’s safe now.)

The light is harsh on his eyes, spinning into circles and stars and dancing into nothingness. And if Keith tries to concentrate, he can almost see a tuft of brown hair.

There’s water that falls like rain onto his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive my writing here, i wrote most of this all the way back in march, and i was pretty rusty :(  
> it gets better! (my writing, i mean. not the, uh, happiness level of the characters)


	2. (3) if you left i’d always wait

if you left i’d always wait

_i not giving up on you_

and if this is my final stand, then

_this one’s for you, *****_

 

Keith can feel the rain through his hood, just light pressure dancing across his scalp. The particular planet the Blade has landed on is similar enough to Earth that it’s almost eerie. It’s like finding your identical twin on the other side of the universe, quite literally. Unfortunately, Keith is not a native species of the planet, and the rain is poisonous to anyone from Earth’s particular solar system. The wonders of evolution.

The glove crinkles around his hand as he closes a fist around the small deposit of rain in his hand. The water drips from his hand, joining its comrades in the march back to the ground.

Life with the Blade of Marmora is never slow, but it’s the quiet time that Keith manages to carve out for himself that he really appreciates. This, for example. Just standing out in the open and enjoying the rain is a luxury he has never been able to afford back on Earth, and certainly not as a Paladin of Voltron. The Paladins visited countless planets, true, but they never stayed long enough to form any meaningful connections or dance in the rain.

Of course, Keith is not dancing.

He stays there just a little while longer, head lifted slightly as he stares into the overcast skies. Somewhere in the distance, Keith hears his name, another Blade calling him. Shaking free of his trance and the strange melancholy that has draped over him, he turns away and returns to the ship to help his fellow Blade member.

\---

The first sign of bad news is, generally, receiving a call from the Castle while emergency lights flash and sirens wail in the background.

Coran appears to be doing an elaborate dance with his fingers across the controls, all the while shouting at the screen. A few strong jolts of the Castle gives all present Blade members a very lovely view of the inside of Coran’s nose.

The Castle is being attacked by three whole fleets from the Galra empire, and two of five Lions are out-of-commision, whacked into near oblivion by a combination of vicious fighters and a robeast.

Keith clamours to confirm that Shiro is safe (or as safe as he could be) and still in the fight. Coran’s smile is exhausted when he humours him.

He knows that Shiro can hold his own, but it doesn’t stop the jolt of fear that every time he sees him would be the last time he sees him, like _pilot error_ flashing across the TV screens.

Coran then requests, very politely and with absolutely no shrieking whatsoever, that the Blade of Marmora come over to help before the entire Castle is overrun. An intense shockwave then knocks out the connection, turning the screen off on Coran’s face pressed to the screen where he stumbled into after overbalancing in the aftershocks.

Half of the Blade still seems rather outraged by the inside of Coran’s nose, but Kolivan orders them into immediate preparation before any can start a riot.

Keith is the first one out of the door when they’re dismissed, and he almost flies back to his quarters to prepare.  It’s just a quick change of gear, gathering his blade, and he’s at the meeting space in two minutes flat. Keith spends the next minute and a half fidgeting as he waits for the rest of the members involved in the mission. Ten minutes of briefing later, the entire crew is down in the hangars and preparing for take off.

The aircraft thrums under Keith’s fingers, lifting off smoothly and beginning its course through the air. The connection has been re-established with Coran, with said man’s nose blessedly staying clear of the camera this time.

The fighters manoeuvre themselves into slightly more open space before a wormhole opens before them. With the exception of orders from Kolivan, the radio is silent. His surroundings take on a blue glow in the soft light of the wormhole and the craft shakes, pulled one way or the other by the opposing forces at work in the wormhole.

“Be prepared.”

The end of the wormhole opens up into a war zone. Scattered remains of Galra fighters fill the space, full of debris and twisted metal and bodies _._ Keith steers clear of a particularly dense segment of wreckage, focusing on destroying the large chunk of fighters that remains. The three remaining Lions had managed to destroy the flagship, and all five of them are now battling a robeast, lasers blazing. The remaining fighters are attacking the Castle, whose defences are already on the brink of total collapse.

The Blade manages to make short work of the fighters, giving the Paladins the much needed time to break off and form Voltron to take down the robeast.

In all honesty, if the Castle and Lions hadn’t been so depleted of energy, they probably could have defeated the fleet without any problems. But with the battle dragging on, even the Lions themselves are tired. It is the whole reason why Red and Green had been knocked out of space, with the fighters being too tired to react and the Lions equally as tired to react for them. Both Paladins are confirmed as being alright, if exhausted, but both Lions are bordering on being out of commision. A small twinge of worry creeps into his heart as Coran relays to the Blades about the condition of both Lions. Red had been hit especially hard, and Keith can’t help but fret over what used to be his giant broody mechanical cat.

The team continues to make their way towards the main battle, dodging lasers fired from both enemy and ally alike, with said allies being too tired to do anything more than pulling the trigger, much less aim properly. The robeast is something a little out of both parties’ depths, but with the two groups combined, it is soon destroyed, metal and wires now dotting the area it had last occupied.

Slowly, the fighters help limp the remaining Lions back into their hangars, before landing in the public hangar themselves. Keith lets himself drink in the familiar blue and grey walls of the Castle, wallowing in nostalgia just this once.

When they reach the control room, all the Paladins sans Shiro are already present. All of them look very much worse for wear and incredibly dishevelled. Lance winces whenever he talks, which makes for a guiltily interesting spectacle as he tries to speak without inhaling or exhaling too much. His voice, in the end, sounds very much like he is on his last breath. Allura is slightly better, which comes as a surprise after seeing the state of the Blue Lion on the escort back. Hunk seems to be okay (perks of having the most heavily armoured Lion) minus the fact that he is currently sleeping in his chair, a line of drool staining the corner of his mouth. Pidge had been knocked around the cockpit when her Lion spun out of control, but aside from general exhaustion and assorted bruises, Pidge is pretty much unscathed.

All that is left is the elusive Shiro. As he chats with Pidge, Keith can’t help but wonder about Shiro. It seems that no matter where they were, his thoughts were never able to stray far from the Black Paladin. Pidge eventually seems to catch on to the reason for Keith’s distracted answers and the conversation steers into Shiro-territory.

“So… did he tell you?” Pidge is currently leaning onto the wall, looking like she is about to fall asleep even with her eyes forced wide open. There is some strange hesitation to her question.

“Tell me what?”  Keith is leaning similarly onto the wall.

Pidge looks away, absentmindedly rubbing her soulmark at the side of her palm. She hasn’t managed to find her soulmate yet while on Earth, and now, in the vast empty space, she might never find the special someone.

 _At least she_ has _a soulmark._ The small, bitter, part of Keith rears its head again and his mood sours. Despite its voice getting softer during his time in space, Keith never could get rid of it completely. A permanent scar courtesy of his absent parents and a set of incredibly terrible circumstances.

Their conversation is interrupted by the appearance of the subject of his frustrations himself, Shiro. The sight of the Black Paladin is enough to make his spirit flop over from rock bottom and soar into the skies-

Keith frowns.

Shiro’s laughing as he enters, and hanging by Shiro’s side, laughing with him, is someone he has never seen before.

Pidge stands up by Keith’s side, wincing, expression a mix of apology and wariness.

“Yeah, uh. Her.”

“Her, _who_?”

It isn’t possible. It _isn’t_ possible, right? What are the chances that somewhere in this stupidly vast amount of space, Shiro had found his… _It isn’t possible, right?_ Shiro has never shown anyone, not Keith, not Matt, not _any_ of the Paladins, his soulmark, always insisting that his soulmark is in a rather delicate location. It’s strange, with most people showing off their soulmark as much as they can, but Shiro’s never stuck to the norm.

Somewhere in Keith, from the lack of evidence that it _actually_ existed, he hoped that maybe Shiro is like him. Maybe Shiro doesn’t have a soulmark either. That maybe, _maybe_ …

 _(Keith remembers that night at the Garrison, when the two sparred late into the night. It’s way past curfew, and if they get caught, even Shiro’s excuse as a senior officer wouldn’t have been able to excuse them. The two of them are doing hand-to-hand combat, and somehow, through a bizarre mix of tackles and rolls, Keith ends up lying on top of Shiro to pin him down, face inches away from the other. They both freeze, and Keith can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. The lights are dim, and he can’t quite tell, but the flush on Shiro’s face doesn’t seem to be only from the exertion of sparring. The two of them just stare, and then Shiro closes his eyes, as if he is_ waiting _for something. Almost in a trance, Keith starts to close the distance between them-_

_In the distance, a door bangs open and they spring apart.)_

Pidge still isn’t looking at him.

“Pidge, _who is she?!_ ” Keith’s voice is slightly raised now, though it is still a harsh whisper, soft enough that no one hears.

Those in the room are moving over to check on Shiro. They’re going to wonder why Pidge and Keith haven’t gone over to join them.

Keith doesn’t care. He stares holes into the side of Pidge’s head, while said person still looks like she wants a Galra fighter to come in and finish its job from before.

“Look, I… We all thought that maybe, uh, your…” she pauses, “soulmate died.” Pidge rushes through the end of her sentence.

Talking about the other half of your soul dying, much less to the half who’s still alive, is an unspoken taboo, and Keith would have commended her courage if he isn’t trying to wrap his head around her sentence.

“What?”

Pidge adjusts her glasses.

“I mean, the way you avoided soulmate talk, it’s like someone whose soulmate died. We kind of thought that you were pining on Shiro. But _he_ has a soulmate too, you know?”

And, yeah, Keith _knows_ that. He reminds himself every single time he catches himself staring at Shiro, at every stray thought that crosses his mind.

And then the implications sink in, and his heart starts to thump, thoughts muddling up. The emotion that trembles in him is unnameable, something that rings like disappointment, something that rings like horror, something that rings like _something isn’t right._ It’s the precursor to an earthquake, and the only reason Pidge would be saying that is if-

 _(Shiro rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder. He has to go soon, to prepare for launch. Static roars over Shiro’s words as his mouth moves, saying something. What is it?_ What is it?

_Keith knows these words by heart, even if he can’t hear them._

_“I’ll be back. I promise.”_

_Stutter, an aborted sentence, something Keith wants to delude himself into believing that it’s-_

_“I love you.”_

_He drowns in his dreams.)_

Keith turns around, towards the entrance where _she_ stands with _Shiro_. They are still laughing, and Shiro looks so blissful. Had he ever looked so happy when he was with Keith?

His ears are ringing. He can’t hear what Pidge is telling him. He can’t hear _anything_. Keith suddenly feels like a stranger in his own body, limbs dumb and locked stiffly in place. He can only spectate.

And he can only watch as Shiro leans down and kisses _her_ full on the lips.

It’s with a sort of fascinated horror. Keith’s mind can’t catch up with what he’s seeing. Somewhere, vaguely, he knows that his heart is tearing itself apart, into bits and pieces of nothingness as he watches Shiro kiss her with all the passion that Keith longs, had longed, to be for him.

He still feels like he is floating, and he slowly drifts himself over to the _couple._

“I didn’t know. Congratulations.”

Keith hears himself say it, but he can’t remember his mouth moving. His tone sounds like someone is trying to pump air into a tire with a hole, flat and full of false cheer.

Shiro’s happy expression melts, just a little, and he almost seems a touch apologetic.

_(I can’t believe you made him feel sorry! He has nothing to be sorry for!)_

“Her name’s Juliet. She was working at a rebel base when we first met. The moment I saw her…”

He trails off, the look in his eyes becoming slightly dazed. Juliet giggles as she elbows him in the side, shaking Shiro out of his thoughts with a laugh.

Keith recognises the look on Shiro’s face. It’s love, just pure, true, love. And who is Keith to drag Shiro down with him? But that can’t stop the bitterness from forming, and despite himself, he can feel tears edging at the corner of his eyes.

_Not here. He can’t ruin it for Shiro._

“E-excuse me. I need. I need to go. To the bathroom.”

Keith hightails out of the room. Why now? He hasn’t cried in years. He hadn’t cried when Shiro went missing, declared dead from pilot error. He hadn’t cried when his father never came back to find him. He hadn’t cried when his mother disappeared. _He hadn’t cried, just gritted his teeth and carried on._ Why is now different? Why does he feel like he is falling to pieces, like the ground beneath him is falling away, like all the colour in the world has suddenly been sucked away?

_“I love you.”_

It doesn’t matter who or what. His father, his mother, Matt, the Garrison, Voltron, the Red Lion, the Black Lion, _Shiro_ , they all left him in the end. No one stays. No one _wanted_ to stay.

Why? _Why? Why?!_

 _“I_ ~~_love_~~ _hate you.”_

_Don’t leave me..._

Off. Off. Off. He has to get _off_ the ship. There’s a sense of unease that’s clinging onto Keith, a sense of dread that aches in his bones, like something is very wrong to its core. If he stays here any longer, he can’t guarantee he won’t just tear into the control room and attack _her_.

Off. Off. Off.

“Keith!” _Pidge._

“Hey! I know you’re here somewhere!” _Suddenly, he’s back at the Garrison, room darkening,_ pilot error _flashing on the screen before him._

“Come on, talk to me! We can work through this together, yeah?” _But this time there’s no denying it._ Shiro’s _body is cold under his fingertips._

“Keith!” _The cold spreads up from his fingers and freezing his body in a numb horror._

“Keith!” _He needs to go._

Keith runs.

\---

When his thoughts clear enough for him to finally be coherent, Keith is back at the Blade of Marmora base, or specifically, its training deck. The remains of several gladiators are scattered around him, which Keith only vaguely remembers taking down. He had been on auto-pilot, and his body took him back to his personal sanctuary. The training deck is, after all, the room he spends the most time in, be it at Voltron or here.

In second place, Shiro’s room and Red’s hangar had tied. Guess both are gone, now.

Keith wishes he hadn’t returned to clarity.

_Shiro, Shiro, Shiro._

Despite taking out his grief on most of the gladiators, his heart is still a screaming chasm of despair. Training has only done so much for him, and it definitely isn’t enough to fill up the chasm. The gulf, once filled with his parents, then torn away, then filled once more with Shiro and the Garrison.

His days hadn’t been perfect, but it was enough, _enough,_ but fate has never been kind and now? Once again, everything has been torn away, but now even the edges are beginning to crumbling.

Keith stands there in the middle of the training deck, panting.

_Shiro, Shiro, Shiro._

_Juliet_.

And he relives how Shiro had looked when he looked at Juliet. All that doting affection, unbridled love, with all that care and intensity, something so innocent and so _Shiro_.

And he had stormed out of it. _Oh god, what must Shiro think of him now?_ Keith had all but ran from the control room then. Shiro must have put two and two together and figured out _why_.

(And… somewhere, Keith had hoped that maybe, maybe he would call and ask if he was okay.)

(But he didn’t.)

Shiro must _hate_ him now. Why had Keith been so _selfish_ ? Why couldn’t he have put Shiro’s happiness _above his own_ ? _Why couldn’t Keith have controlled his own emotions better?_

His thoughts are screaming at him again, chasm gaping and suddenly a blow snaps his head to the side. Keith only manages to catch sight of a Gladiator he must have missed, its eyes gleaming and weapon raised, before the floor greets its old friend.

Shiro isn’t here to save him this time.

\--- 

His world is dark. There is only him, all alone again. Keith hauls himself up from the floor, but his limbs feel like invisible weights are chained to them. Every movement takes more effort than it should, and even with all the strength he can muster, Keith can barely drag his body into a crouch. Standing, it seems, will take more strength than he has.

Slowly, Keith lifts his head to face the heavens. Stars dot a purple sky, taking his remaining breath away with its beauty. The ground is completely black and smooth, like a marble floor that shines majestic and indifferent.

_Where is he?_

Keith feels like he has been surrounded by a strangely comforting, _nostalgic_ cold and sleep weighs on his eyelids. He hasn’t felt like this since…

 ~~Shiro left.~~ His father died.

From the distance, he thinks that perhaps, he can hear some familiar purring, and then purple matter begins to coagulate in front of him. If Keith had been a little more mobile, he might have jumped in shock, but with his limbs locked in place, all Keith manages to do is fall back on his butt.

When the purple mass begins to take a familiar outline, Keith chokes.

“Shiro…?”

He’s tinged in purple and he looks exactly like how he had in the second battle with Zarkon, before he had gone missing. The tuft of hair in front is still uncut, the hair still buzzed. It is like Keith had stepped back in time and went back to the day before it had all gone so wrong.

Shiro seems to be in a similar state, seemingly awestruck as he stutters, “K-Keith?”

The silence stretches between them, with only the distant purring accompanying them. Slowly, slowly, eyes wide, they reach out for one another-

It glitches. Not just Shiro, but everything, the stars, the surroundings, even the comforting purr. Just for a moment, it distorts into a roar. Suddenly, Keith’s limbs completely freeze in place, the cold wrapping around him in a constricting embrace.

Shiro’s purple flares bright, and then he flickers, bits of him tearing apart and melding back together. The shrieking static roars in Keith’s ears, drowning out whatever Shiro’s desperately trying to say. There is a scream of a witch’s laughter, and Shiro explodes into stardust and nothingness. The flickering light disperses into the void, but the laughter continues, laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing.

_Did you really think that was real?_

The voice is everywhere. Shrieking in his ears and his head and his mind and into his soul.

_Did you really think he loved you?_

Something deeper than the biting cold settles into his bones.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

_You’re pathetic. Chasing after Shiro when you knew you had no chance with him. And today just proved it, didn’t it?_

The cold is freezing his bones now, turning them into fragile pieces of ice, cracking at the lightest touch.

 _You aren’t worth it. You don’t deserve him. You’re_ filthy. _Look at that, a human without a_ soulmark _._

It’s… so… cold…

Keith shivers and he curls into a ball, as if trying to fend off the words with his body.

_(Shiro… where are you…?)_

The voice pauses, just for a moment, as if sensing his thoughts.

_Did you really think that Shiro would come? That he would be your knight in shining armour yet again?_

Defiance.

 _How_ cute. _Why don’t you hear the facts for yourself?_

And suddenly, Shiro is there, in front of him. He is in a middle of a sentence, frowning at some invisible subject in the distance.

“-when he does that! I wish he’d just let me be sometimes, you know? He always there, ruining things for me! And now…”

Shiro pauses, as if listening to some comment by the invisible subject.

“But he should know better! Why can’t he just let me be happy? Honestly, he’s such a bother sometimes…”

He pauses again.

“I’m talking about Keith, of course. I mean, you’ve seen firsthand how _needy_ he is.”

Keith shatters. The cold becomes a screaming pain, and he can almost feel himself breaking into little pieces _(even if his skin remained intact, there are many ways to break)_.

“No… no… he… he doesn’t think of me like that…?”

It’s not supposed to be a question. This should be the kind of thing Keith _knows_ to his heart, to his bones, but the wounds Keith nurses from Shiro’s disappearance still sting, no kind voice there to soothe the pain. And after Juliet…

It is true, isn’t it? Shiro must _hate_ him for running away. Shiro knows why he ran. Shiro is mad at him. Shiro doesn’t like him. Shiro doesn’t want him.

_Shiro had left._

_And then there is nothing left._

The witch’s laugh screeches again, and a sorrowful wail echoes through the purple sky as it dissolves around him, stars winking out one by one.

Keith awakes to find himself alone in a bed in the infirmary. The purple walls glow eerily, and he finds himself shivering.

\---

“Another mission? Cub, burning yourself out will not help the Blade. You need to rest. Take some time off. You haven’t visited the Castle in a while, perhaps you could go back and visit your friends.”

The control panel lights blink behind the hulking form of Kolivan. The leader of the Blades frowns down at the youngest member, taking in Keith’s dishevelled appearance.

He looks away under his gaze, but still doesn’t budge.

“Keith, this is not good for you.”

Kolivan is frowning now, worry lines evident on his face, carved into place from his many years of helming the Blade. Half of the new lines are probably due to Keith-

_(Useless!)_

_(You’ve seen how needy he is-)_

_(Do you really think anyone wants you?)_

Keith flinches, breath frozen in his lungs. Slowly, slowly, he exhales, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. Kolivan is right. He is too tired to do anything right. Perhaps Keith can take a break in his room for a bit before training so that he could be useful.

“... Yes, sir. I’ll rest in my room.”

Keith leaves then, turning his back to Kolivan, leaving the commander to his furrowed brows and worry lines.

Trudging through the hallways again, he can hear his fellow members, chatting as they go on their way to their respective destinations.

_(They’re so happy…)_

Keith passes by the training room. Inside, the sounds of clashing metal draw his attention. Keith pauses by the door, wondering if he should go back to his room or watch his Blade-mates sparring.

The urge to watch overwhelms his need to rest and Keith cautiously pushes open the door, wary for any flying projectiles.

Thankfully, the first match had just ended and Keith approaches the benches by the side of the training mat, greeting the members already present.

And the next match starts.

Sparks rain around them as metal clashes on metal, the sparrers grunting as they strain against each other. One springs back just in time as a sword cleaves through the air where she had been moments prior. She growls at her opponent, and lunges, sword bared.

_This is the standard you need to be to fight the Galra loyal to Zarkon. You are nowhere near their level. Such a deadweight, huh?_

Keith flinches, the intrusive thoughts making itself at home yet again.

_Don’t you think it’ll be better if they just cast you off? At least you wouldn’t be dragging them down._

“Shut up…”

 _Aw, poor Keith. Can’t defend yourself from the_ truth _, huh?_

Keith’s head is pounding, words thrumming. The pain has been present ever since seeing Shiro in the starry world _then_ . It makes it hard to think, to breathe, to do _anything_.

To _fight_.

He… needs to get stronger. This way, _only_ this way, ~~will anyone want him~~ will he be able to fight Zarkon.

Keith leaves that section of the training deck, retreating to another corner on the far side.

“Begin simulation.”

Gladiators fade into existence around him, weapons almost shimmering. The dagger in his hand glows dully as it transforms, seeming to be as tired as Keith is. The sword now in his hands trembles just slightly, and Keith can feel the exhaustion tugging at all his corners, but he readies it and charges.

\---

Keith goes back to the castle only once after a very long time, set on avoiding the ship for as long as he could, forever, if possible. Pidge had sent the request to return not in a video call, but as a text message. It is for the better, perhaps, for Keith would definitely not have picked up her call.

 _Shiro_ never once called Keith in those two months. It stings, a lot. It stings of a promise made on a hill, the sun rising before them, stings of a promise and a hug and whispered words.

_(He has better things to do than worry about someone like you.)_

The message had been subdued and short (“Hey, Keith. You should come visit us soon. Everyone really misses you. Love, Pidge”), the tone completely unlike the usually feisty Green Paladin.

Keith had been planning on excusing himself (“Sorry, on a mission. Maybe next time?”), but the message is sent through the main Blade communications system and spotted by Kolivan before Keith can reply. The commander then insists that Keith take some time off and visit the Paladins, proceeding to lock him out of every room until he agreed.

Landing in the public hangar, Keith disembarks from the shuttle. He can already see the other Paladins waiting outside, Lance bouncing on his toes, Pidge glaring at the cockpit windscreen, Hunk anxiously glancing around. Allura and Coran stand a little way apart, more composed than the others, but the smiles on their faces are undeniable.

Shiro isn’t there.

 _(Why would he_ want _to be there?)_

The moment Keith steps foot on Castle ground, Pidge crashes into him, and the rest of the Paladins soon follow in a dogpile.

“You _son_ of a _bitch_ ! I’ll _show you_ what happens the next time you disappear off the face of the goddamn universe!”

The other Paladins seem to be blabbering a similar tune, Lance’s punctuated with occasional “I didn’t miss you at all!”s and “Those aren’t tears, it’s just… my eyes sweating!”. Hunk is beyond comprehension.

 _(Aw… how sweet. You know, I’m pretty sure that they’re just doing this for the looks. Why would they be happy that someone like_ you _came back?)_

~~_Shut up…_ ~~

When the general chaos and tears die down, Allura gently pats his shoulder and smiles warmly.

“It’s good to see you back on the ship, Keith.”

The corner of Keith's lips lifts with genuine happiness. Despite everything, it’s true that Keith missed his family fellow Paladins. He’s going to reply, maybe contemplate a hug, and the door opens.

Shiro steps into the room, hand in hand with Juliet, before he catches sight of Keith and stops, grinning. Everything comes crashing back onto Keith, and his smile turns to paper.

"Keith! I wasn't expecting you!"

Wasn't... expecting him?

_(You're nothing to him, Keith. Ha! He didn't even know that you were coming!)_

The other Paladins fidgets, looking various ways as Shiro doesn’t even grace him with a look, instead choosing to laugh at something Juliet said and boop her nose.

~~Keith isn’t even smiling, anymore.~~

_(Ingrate.)_

"Well! I still have something to show you!" Pidge coughs loudly and proceeds to detach Keith's arm via high-speed dragging. On the way out, she crashes into Juliet and gives her the most insincere apology mankind has ever known.

Their pace remains quick all the way to the Green Lion hangar, with Pidge muttering under her breath and Keith not quite daring to interrupt.

Once inside, Pidge seems to take absorb some of the calm around her, exhaling out her anger. She turns to speak, and realises that Keith has paused by the door, expression uncertain.

“Just come in.”

There’s no annoyance in her tone, and Keith steps into the Green Lion hangar. Following Pidge to the back, he sees a cosy little area populated with beanbags, various books, and snacks. Little metal parts are strewn over the floor, surrounding a partially completed project. Pidge collapses into a beanbag and pulls out a laptop from somewhere underneath her. After a moment, she looks up and rolls her eyes. Keith still hovers by the little corner, uncertain. Once again, she grabs him by the arm and pulls Keith into the adjacent beanbag.

“I rest my feet there, so it’s usually pretty gross, especially after training, but I’m sure you don’t mind.”

A smirk. Keith laughs and relaxes into the green plush.

Pidge fiddles with her laptop, then turns the screen off and laces her fingers together, resting her head upon it.

“All fun and games aside, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

She looks contemplative, and suddenly, Keith feels a shot of dread. Her expression is _way_ too similar to what she wore just two months ago, in the bridge and talking about dead soulmates.

_(Coward.)_

“It’s about Shiro.”

Despite the steadily growing roar of static laughter in his ears, Keith forces the question to his lips.

“What about him?”

~~_Everything about him. Did he always hate me? What did I do?_ ~~

“You noticed, haven’t you?” Pidge leans in, frowning, “After Shiro met his soulmate. Becoming negligent, forgetting about the simplest of things, becoming easily irritable…”

_(Huh, guess she forgot you haven’t been here in a while, hasn’t she?)_

“I…”

She waits, puzzled.

“Haven’t the two of you met up?”

The question catches Keith off guard.

“... What?”

“The other day. He said…!”

Pidge trails off, and her expression hardening into fury as she figures out the missing piece of a mystery that Keith hadn’t even known existed.

“I can’t believe it! No wonder we never see Juliet around then! He lied!”

_Oh._

_(Aw, guess not even years of_ friendship _could overcome the bonds of soulmates.)_

Pidge stands up suddenly, laptop sliding off her lap and landing on the floor with a clatter.

“I can’t believe this man! First, he ditches our group discussion sessions, then he just _keeps_ telling us about what a fucking angel Juliet is every second of the day, distracting us from battles and doing nothing productive, and now he does _this_?!”

There is a dangerous fire in her eyes. Keith quickly realises that if he doesn’t do something, someone is going to die.

_(But you don’t want to, do you?)_

And Pidge is gone from the hangar. Cursing, Keith scrambles up and hurries through the closing doors, after the green fury. He can always just see a splash of brown hair as he turns the corner, but Keith is never fast enough to catch up. Keith may be the fastest, but Pidge is nimble, and today, anger quickens her steps.

Another corner, and then a wide open door.

“ _Shiro!_ ”

Keith skids into the room, and his breath catches. Shiro isn’t in the room. Juliet looks up, mouth open in polite surprise. The numbness he’s beginning to associate with Shiro tingles at his fingers once more, but without said man actually being present, the burning coil of jealousy sitting in his stomach makes its presence known.

The murderous expression that Pidge nurses make it just a touch better.

“Where’s Shiro.”

Juliet frowns, putting down whatever she is fiddling with onto the table.

“He just left to get something,” Juliet’s expression becomes guarded, “Why do you need to find him? Is… something wrong?”

Pidge positively snarls at her.

“You’re damn right something’s wrong. _Where. Did. He. Go._ ”

Something in Juliet bristles. Whatever bond the two had managed to build over the months seems to come dangerously close to becoming severed.

“Look, _Katie_ ,” Keith takes a moment to marvel at Juliet’s guts as Pidge’s face became stony (the name Katie has become something reserved just for Matt and Sam and Colleen, and only one of them is currently contactable), “I don’t know what’s going on, if there’s some kind of Galra emergency or something, but I _really_ don’t appreciate your tone.”

Pidge is silent for a moment, calculating her attack.

“ _Look,_ asshole. I _really_ don’t know what Shiro sees in you, because so far, all you’ve done is being an _absolute dick_ and hindering our plans. I know you’ve been trying to weasel your way into our little space family, and I’m trying to be open, but I’m done playing games. I’m only nice to people I like, and right now? You’re on top of my hit list. If you’re not gonna help, fine. Fuck off. And don’t _ever_ bother me about your _stupid_ phone upgrades again.”

Whirling around, Pidge makes to move towards the doors, but by the doors is Shiro, his expression stormy.

“ _Pidge._ ”

In the end, they didn’t get to hear his lecture.

Juliet is more like a cat as she springs, pulling Pidge to the ground with a feral cry. The two tumbles, Pidge attempting to pin Juliet down as the other attempts to rend Pidge limb from limb. They turn, and Juliet rears her head up, foaming at the mouth. It’s like she has gone _rabid_.

“Keith! Shiro! Help me-”

Shiro starts, as if he is going to separate them, then he shudders to a stop, swaying where he stands, eyes pulled wide and hands shaking.

Pidge yells as Juliet manages to slash across her face with claws that tear itself out of her skin, claws that gleam _Galra_. Keith startles himself out of his confused stupor, retrieving his blade and joining the fray. A well-aimed knock and Juliet is out cold on the floor.

Pidge is bleeding from the cut across her cheek. Her clothes have been ripped in some places, cruel slash marks across the back.

“What the heck…?”

No one moves, blood sprayed across the floor around Juliet.

Tension sinks into the room, thick and suffocating.

From behind them, they hear a sound, inhuman, like a rabid cat growling, and that’s what makes them turn around.

Shiro’s eyes are closed.

_“No one... nO oNe tOuchEs hEr…”_

“Shiro…?”

Pidge draws her weapon, tense from Juliet and now wary of Shiro.

Shiro _smiles,_ showing all his teeth and his gums, and leaps onto Keith. He yells, dagger pulled out to hold him back-

And he sees his eyes. There are no pupils, just an expense of pure yellow.

_Galra._

Then gravity takes hold and they crash to the ground.

“Keith!”

A punch catches him across the nose, his hand nicks his thigh -- Shiro is a deadly force now. This isn’t friendly sparring. Shiro is fighting to _kill_. His Galra hand glows purple, tracing the air with fatal streaks.

“Shiro! Please!”

His heart thumps, painfully, at every stroke he takes against Shiro, and his words are a painful exhale Keith is thrown to the side. Shiro doesn’t hear him.

Shiro’s face has gone taut with anger, but his eyes are blank, focused only on Keith, and Keith alone. Pidge has launched herself into the fight, trying her best to disarm him- to do _something to help_ , but nothing deters Shiro from his target.

Shiro is strong, but Keith is fast and Pidge is resourceful. Between the two of them, they manage to secure him, pinning Shiro’s struggling limbs to the ground. Pidge takes another blow to her face, Keith, one to his knee. Neither of them are keen to hurt -- Shiro means so much, _so much_ to both of them.

Something pulses beneath the surface of his skin, all claws and teeth and savagery that has never, _never_ been directed towards them before.

“Shiro, please! Calm down- it’s going to be oka-!”

Keith hisses as Shiro’s activated Galra prosthetic slams into his arm, burning.

“Keith!”

He has to stop Shiro’s limbs.

Keith hesitates, and a shudder runs through his body, but he jams his knife at the Galra arm panel, trying to wrench it open.

Pidge’s face is wide with horror.

“What the heck…?”

Her hands are shaking not just from the effort of holding down Shiro.

Keith turns around, maybe to ask a question, maybe to comfort her, it doesn’t matter, anyway.

Shiro yanks his head up, Keith’s hand slips, and the knife pierces his throat.

“ _No_!”

And the blood _pours_. Out and out and out and out-

_(nonono-)_

All over him and her and Shiro’s feebly struggling body and onto the floor and into his eyes and into his face-

_(nonononono-)_

He tries to stop it she tries to stop it they try to stop it but it just keeps coming and coming and coming an-

_(nonononononono-)_

d coming and coming and coming and then-!

_(NO-)_

And then… it stops. It stops. He isn’t bleeding and he isn’t breathing and he isn’t blinking and he isn’t he isn’t he isn’t heisn’theisn’theisn’t-

so much blood somuchbloodsomuchblood

he isn’t bleeding he isn’t breathing he isn’t blinking

he’s gone.

_HE’S GONE._

~~murderer MURDERER _MURDERER_~~

_(He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead.)_

(You killed him.)

~~There’s so much dread that fills the room.~~

He stumbles to his feet. (He is covered in blood.) He makes his way out of the living room. (He is covered in Shiro’s blood.) He ignores Pidge’s calls. (He killed Shiro.) He makes his way to the hangar. (He killed the only person who’s ever accepted him.) He gets into the cockpit. (He killed the person that he-) He opens the hangar door. (that he-) He flies out of the hangar. (that he-!)

He leaves.

(that he ~~loves~~ loved.)

Keith leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please keep yourself safe!
> 
> i know that the chapter title says 3, but don't worry about it! it's supposed to be here.
> 
> edit: there's some wonky formatting going on so hang tight! sorry if some of the stuff doesn't make sense -- im fixing it


	3. (4) the time never dulled the pain

the time never dulled the pain

_it’s good to have you back_

there's so much relief when you speak

_it’s good to be back_

 

It’s after the trip to the Blade of Marmora when he feels a glimmer of hope.

By all means, Shiro _shouldn’t_ be happy, seeing all the terrible bruises that dot Keith’s body, the long, angry red scar across his shoulder. They spend a quiet night together as Shiro helps clean Keith’s wounds, the other festering in his guilt. But somehow, no matter where he looked, he couldn’t seem to catch a glimpse of the mark that never fades. Not in death, not in life.

Keith’s soulmark isn’t there.

Perhaps, some part of Shiro reasons, Keith’s soulmark is in an _out of the way_ place, much like what Shiro has always told the others.

Perhaps it didn’t mean anything at all.

Yet the glimmer of hope refuses to die no matter what Shiro throws at it. And at last, just after the briefing for the supposed final strike against Zarkon, Shiro manages to corner Kolivan on his own.

The Galra do not have soulmarks, and Shiro might just be lucky enough for the rule to extend to half-Galra.

It would explain so much, why Shiro also doesn’t have a soulmark, why Keith never talks about his soulmate, why there is always so much crackling, tense, energy between the two of them, why Shiro always feels so much at ease around Keith, like he has finally returned home.

_They could be soulmates._

Shiro makes up his mind, to tell Keith afterwards. He tells himself that it’s just so that in case Shiro doesn’t make it out, Keith wouldn’t be held back by his death forever. It is nothing more than ceremonial -- More from nerves than actual fear.

And then.

The last battle, his last battle, the terrible energy lighting up the Black Lion’s cockpit.

And then.

Pain.

All he can feel in that instant is a terrible, terrible pain, aching in his bones and searing down his body, tearing his mind apart.

And then...

There is nothing else. Nothing else to feel, to see, to hear.

The darkness envelopes him completely, and Shiro knows nothing but pain as he sleeps on.

\---

When he awakes, the first thing he sees are stars. Twinkling in the purple skies, Shiro sleepily marvels the sight. The cold is comforting, somehow, and the pain is fading.

_Is he worthy?_

Someone in his blurry vision. Is that Keith?

A smile comes to his face, “Mm, yeah… Yeah, he’s… worthy…”

Shiro closes his eyes and falls back into sleep, easing into a soft nothingness as words chase him.

_This one’s for you, Shiro._

The second time he wakes, his mind is throbbing, but the wound now feels more like a bruise than a raw amputation. Shiro struggles to get up. He needs to move, but where? Why? What… what is he doing here?

_Not yet, my Paladin._

The purr rumbles through his body as his consciousness slips back under once more.

The third time Shiro wakes, he stays awake. His body and mind feel stronger now, mended. He is conscious, at last.

“Black…?”

_Welcome back, my Paladin._

“What… am I doing here? Isn’t this the astral plane?”

_Both your body and mind did not fare well after the assault from Zarkon. I had to bring you here so that I could heal you._

A surge of affection emanates from all around him, the Black Lion’s worry pouring out.

“I can’t believe this… what happened while I was… asleep? How long was I asleep for? How are the other Paladins? _How is Keith?_ ”

Shiro can feel Black’s distant amusement.

_The other Paladins are all fine._

Pause.

_You have been asleep for, in your planet’s measurements, four months._

“Four months?”

Losing four months doesn’t seem to be that bad of a trade-off for remaining alive, but he still can’t help but mourn the time he lost.

“I can leave now, then?”

Black remains silent, before she answers with an edge of hesitation.

_Not… yet. Your body still has not managed to recover completely, and… it is not safe for you to leave._

“Not safe… what? Why? What’s wrong?”

Once again, the Lion pauses before she answers.

_Perhaps it would be easier to show you…_

The purple sky flickers, and Shiro sees the hangar where the Black Lion resides. The scene before him is too clear and too wide, too much so to be human, and Shiro realises that it’s through the eyes of the Black Lion.

The hangar is clean as always, but somehow, the neatness of the place feels clinical, distinctively _un-Keith_.

Dread.

“Keith… Keith took over, right?”

Shiro’s voice is but a whisper.

_Nothing is going to happen to you!_

The Lion remains silent. Anxiety rises up within Shiro, bubbling into fear. Even when Keith had his reservations, in the end, he always follows through when the situation calls for it. Unless something happened to Keith…!

~~Black didn’t answer his question.~~

The hangar door slides open, and his breath catches. An exact copy of Shiro walks through the door, complete with the Black Paladin armour.

“No way… What’s going on?”

_I… do not know. The Red Paladin found him drifting in space, and brought him back, believing him to be you. I can’t let you out until he has been eliminated._

Eliminated.

_He has been staying in the Castle. The other Paladins and members of the Castle all think him to be you._

The doppelgänger approaches the cockpit, and despite being so far away, despite the Lion sitting immense and tall in the hangar, the fake Shiro seemed to loom over them both.

“Hey, Black. I’m coming in,” fake Shiro calls out.

The Black Lion lowers her jaw, and fake Shiro enters, moving out of Shiro’s view.

“You’re just going to let him? What is he trying to do? What if-”

_You are in danger. Until we can remove this threat, we cannot alert it to your presence. You will require physical rehabilitation after spending such a long time in the astral plane, and you will be in no state to fight him off. The other Paladins will not also be by your side, even if my current Paladin would wish so._

Shiro opens his mouth, to argue, maybe, but then the world around him warps again. He finds himself inside the cockpit, the purple lights coming to life as fake Shiro lowers himself into the pilot chair. He inhales and closes his eyes, and immediately, Shiro feels a sharp pain jab him through his side.

It seems to melt him from the inside, pulling him apart, tearing him apart and pushing him together until he turned into nothingness.

_It hurt._

Fake Shiro gasps, his eyes shooting open.

“What in quiznak...” both voices shake, and for a moment, the world before him flickers.

“Shiro? You in there?”

Keith’s voice filters through the hangar door, before said door slides open to reveal the Paladin.

All at once, panic settles in Shiro’s gut. He had been so preoccupied with the mere existence of another him that he forgot about the threat this Shiro possessed _to the whole team_.

_Peace, my Paladin. The false one has yet to make any moves on any of the Paladins._

Despite her words, both of them know that Black is anything but at peace with the situation. Besides, it isn’t like Shiro could just smother his instinct to protect the team. So what if Fake Shiro hadn’t made any moves _yet_?

As Shiro tries to calm down his mounting alarm, Keith moves to the Lion, pausing only to wait for the jaws to descend.

“Any luck?”

Keith stops behind the pilot chair, one hand rested on the backrest.

Fake Shiro only grunts.

“The Black Lion has chosen you to be her new Paladin. We need to respect that choice.”

A frown grows as Fake Shiro continued on.

“I already told you before. _You_ are the leader now, not me. This is no longer my role to play.”

Keith crosses his arms, then, and looks away.

“I know. But you’re back, and you’re the real Black Paladin. It only makes sense that I give the role back to you.”

Fake Shiro sighs, and stands up.

“Well, maybe I’m just not fit to be Black’s Paladin anymore.”

Keith’s expression closes off at that, and Shiro’s heart aches at seeing the walls going back up, brick by brick, closing off the window that for so long, only Shiro was allowed to see through.

The alarm blares.

_“Paladins! There are reports of Galra cruisers attacking a nearby liberated planet. Get to your Lions now!”_

Fake Shiro climbs out of the chair and pats Keith on the shoulder.

“Duty calls. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Keith just nods, a mouth twisted into a wry smile. Fake Shiro backs out of the Lion, then out of the hangar.

The scene before him dissolves, and Shiro finds himself back in the astral plane.

\---

The Black Lion tries to let him see as much as he can. It’s all that she can do to help diffuse his unease at the whole situation, to at least provide visuals and show him that the team is safe.

When Keith flies, Shiro can always feel the edges of anxiety. The jolt of resignation every time a different order is shouted from the comms. Shiro has never wanted to hit himself more than in those moments.

It doesn’t help that every time Fake Shiro tries bonding with Black, the jolt of pain that comes with it is near unbearable.

Black theorised that it is probably because the both of them have quintessence signatures so similar that it pulls the two of them together, as if some astral force is trying to mash them into one Shiro. Him, out of the astral plane and Fake Shiro into it.

At least, the pain seems to be discouraging Fake Shiro from trying any more than necessary.

And with any more than necessary, that includes the last time Keith flies the Black Lion and the first time the controls light up underneath the imposter.

He doesn’t have any choice.

The first seconds of the bond are excruciating.

Shiro knows that the pain is two-way, and he can almost _feel_ the other wincing, his _thoughts_ — _he has to save the other Paladins._

And the pain disappears so suddenly that Shiro gets whiplash. The Black Lion shoots forward, out of the hangars, joining the others in the fray.

Keith leaves, and it’s just him and the imposter.

At least, he comforts himself, Keith is safe from the imposter now. Every time Shiro senses his quintessence signature, an ability passed onto him by the Black Lion, he finds himself caught between relief and desperation. Keith is back, he is safe, but the longer he stays in the castle, the more danger he is in, the more danger _anyone_ is in.

But he’s safe, and that’s what matters most.

Both Keith and Shiro really drew the short end of the stick when it came to soulmarks, and the imposter finds his soulmate. It seems that clone or no, if he is even a part human, _he_ would have a soulmate, and that leaves a bitter taste in Shiro’s mouth.

They think that it’s because whoever is behind this, they know about the concept of soulmates in humans. They need to make the fake Shiro more convincing, so along comes another human. Maybe she’s fake, maybe she isn’t, but Shiro doesn’t care much for her, and doesn’t put much thought into it.

Instead, he thinks he sees Keith, hand outstretched, and Shiro stutters (“K-Keith?”). There are so many things to say, but a screaming darkness falls over the plane, and when it lifts, Keith is gone.

The imposter finds his soulmate, and Keith stops visiting. Shiro can _sense_ his despair despite Keith’s weakening bond with the Black Lion, can sense despair that washes into the astral plane. There is so much conflict in Keith, jealousy, resignation, self-hatred, despair, despair, _despair_. It’s everywhere, filling the endless sea of the astral plane.

For two whole months, Shiro sees nothing of him. There is not a trace of Keith, be it his quintessence signature, his emotions, or his physical presence. All Shiro can see and feel is the imposter, making out with his soulmate in Black’s cockpit, in Black’s hangar, and nothing else. _No one_ else visited the Black Lion.

For two whole months, nothing.

For two whole months, then at last, jolting awake from his rest, Shiro finally feels Keith.

Somewhere, Shiro prays that Keith would stop at the Black Lion hangar, maybe to find the imposter, maybe for sentimental attachment to the Black Lion, _it doesn’t matter_ . Shiro just wants to see Keith again, make sure he is safe, that he is whole, _he just wants to see_.

Instead, Shiro feels another bright flare of pain through the Black Lion bond.

Instead, Shiro feels the bond between pilot and Lion snap, violent and brutal.

Instead, Shiro feels

Nothing.

There is a flash of light — _GO, NOW!_ — and Shiro is in the hangar, dizzy and disorientated from the sudden shift from dark purple to bright blue — and then Shiro knows, somewhere deep in his heart, that Keith is gone.

They are both alone, now.

\--- 

Pidge finds him first. She’s covered in blood, shaking and mumbling to herself as she enters the Black Lion hangar, she finds herself facing an equally shocked Shiro.

She screams.

It pierces the air and it seems to take everything of Pidge with it, all her broken shards shoved into it and ripping through everything in the room, ripping through Shiro, paralyzing him just like a physical wound. It’s so raw and overwhelming and it sounds like Pidge is breaking apart at her seams.

It takes a whole panicked ten minutes to calm her down as everyone else comes skidding into the hangar, screaming bloody murder. Pidge does not scream, period.

She drops to the floor, body trembling and her head in her hands, sticky with blood.

“It’s not mine. It’s Shiro’s.”

There is confusion from the others as they stare Shiro down, but there’ a sinking feeling in the way Pidge avoids his eyes, in the way she just angles herself away from him ever so slightly, in the way she jumps, hand twitching down to her bayard before it rests back on her lap.

Shiro doesn’t know why he asks, but he does, anyway.

“He’s dead, then.”

Pidge looks at him then, and her laughter is broken.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?”

Shiro sinks to his knees beside Pidge and his hands hover at her side for just a moment as he remembers a different body, then they wrap around her in a tentative hug. Pidge freezes for a moment, then her body begins to shake, dry sobs and hiccups racking her small body.

“There’s… A body. In the living room. Juliet should be there, she’ll be out cold.”

There are exclamations met to this comment. What happened? Whose body is it? What happened to Juliet?

But Pidge just shakes her head, her lips pressed into a line so thin that it becomes a pale white. There will be no answer from her.

The others look worriedly at Shiro, perhaps scanning for some invisible wound that should have coated Pidge in his blood, some way he is injured. And they leave for the living room, trepidation obvious in how their footsteps echo heavily, slow and anxious through the hallway before it fades into nothing.

Pidge rocks slightly, then in a mumble, “Keith’s gone.”

_Another person from my family has left. I watched the life fade from the eyes of someone who looks just like you, from someone who I trusted with my life._

“I know.” Shiro had known, the moment he was ejected into the hangar, that it was already too late. Keith is already too far gone, both physically and emotionally. Seeing anyone, much less _Shiro_ would probably do less-than-savoury things to his mental health.

There is a pause, silence in the hangar except for Pidge’s harsh breathing and the slight whirl of a distant fan.

Then, “You’re real, right?”

Shiro closes his eyes, pulls himself together, and replies, “Yeah, I am.”

~~I think I am.~~

But his voice comes out rough, like bits of himself had been left stuck in his throat, clogging up his voice.

And in the distance, Lance screams.

\---

Juliet dies too. They aren’t sure how -- it’s like she had just sat down and her breath left her. Like life had just given up on her.

The imposter’s body had been covered up, put into a bag, the living room out of bounds until they manage to clean up the mess left behind.

Then Pidge says all she can, voice monotone like she’s reporting a training regime rather than the death of someone she would have trusted with her _life_. Her voice wobbles as she starts to describe how Keith looked when he walked out of the room, and dies out abruptly. Pidge stands up and walks straight out of the hangar. There are no explanations, and no one to stop her. They all just watch her go.

Shiro sits down with the remains of the team and explains, his long absence from the team and his stay in the Black Lion, from Zarkon till now. There isn’t much to say, just vast patches of time spent in an empty space with nothing to do, but with how long they stay silent, it’s like he had chronicled his entire life from start to end and the seven lives before his.

At the end, Lance rubs at the corner of his eyes, muttering, “I can’t believe we didn’t realise. The warning signs were all there…”

Allura looks up from her lap, and her eyes are misty.

“So, then, our first priority is to find Keith and explain everything to him.”

The silence in the room is consent.

Heaving herself out of her seat, Allura pats down her clothes and tries a smile.

“I suppose, the earlier we try, the better.”

They are like lost sheep, following Allura into the control room, Shiro trailing behind. As they pass by the living room, everyone averts their eyes, the strong coppery smell making Shiro want to puke. He can’t help but glance over, and seeing the blood-splattered floor and walls makes Shiro hurry his footsteps.

He wondered who is cleaning up the mess.

Into the control room, and Allura pings the Blade of Marmora.

The video feed opens to a furious Kolivan.

_“What. Did. You. Do.”_

Kolivan has always looked threatening, but at that moment, he seems like a lion himself, more teeth and claw than roar, mouth lifted into a snarl and his eyes narrowed into slits.

Unconsciously, Shiro finds himself take a step back, and he from the corner of his eye, he sees the others doing so too.

 _“Keith came back to the base covered in blood and completely unresponsive. If this is what he can expect from a_ family _like you… Perhaps he would be better off without you all after all.”_

Kolivan’s ears flatten.

_“That will be all. I do not wish to hear from you again anytime soon, unless it is urgent.”_

The screen blanked out, taking everyone’s hopes with it.

Shiro sinks to his knees. He vaguely registers Hunk coming to his side, holding him in a hug like Shiro had done for Pidge just barely an hour (an hour? It felt so long ago…) before.

“It’s going to be okay… You should get some rest.”

Lies, lies. It isn’t going to be okay. Keith believes that he killed Shiro. With luck, he’ll never show up at the Castle again. Without, chances are…

_(I love you.)_

There are few methods of separation that are permanent, but Shiro has the living room as a stark reminder of the most common.

~~Death.~~

Shiro doesn’t want to think about it. He lets Hunk lead him back into the room, _his_ room with weary footsteps.

The door opens with a hiss, and Hunk guides him to the bed.

“Stay here. You’re… probably hungry. I’ll go make something.”

Shiro barely registers his words in the distant murky recess of his mind, and Hunk leaves the room.

Slowly, the lights dim into a gentle blue glow, and Shiro is alone in his thoughts. Slowly, Shiro puts himself back together, gathering whatever shards he missed earlier, whatever shards that had scattered to the wind earlier, stacking it into a delicate glass tower.

He has a mission. He is a leader. He can’t let this, _this_ (so close to finally finding his soulmate, and then being cruelly torn apart again and again) get to him.

Shiro has to be strong, for the others, for himself, for _Keith_ . Keep himself in one piece until they find a way to solve this, until he can finally _tell_ Keith “I love you” without guilt.

Rising to his feet, Shiro inhales, sucking in all the shards and taping them together. The tower trembles and threatens to fall apart, but the tape holds, and he leaves the room in slow, measured steps, expression now screwed into a blank determination.

He hesitated before. He isn’t about to let Keith slip through his fingers again. never again.

When Allura calls a meeting to discuss what they should do next, no one puts forth any suggestions. Instead, Pidge raises her head from where it is rested in her hands, and quietly, almost accusatory, she asks, “Why do you care so much about Keith?”

That earns a wince from everyone else in the room, but Shiro’s face remains blank.

It will be a while before she truly forgets what the imposter had done to Keith.

He breathes in.

“Because I care for him, and every time I think about how this, _this_ , was caused by someone who’s technically me, it hurts _so much_ . He means _everything_ to me.”

Pidge eyes him.

“But there’s something else.”

He breathes out.

“He’s my soulmate, and I love him.”

There are exclamations from every other member in the room, but Pidge just nods tiredly. Some life seems to have been reawoken in her eyes from the last time Shiro saw her.

“And you’ll do anything to get him back, to explain everything to him. Make him feel _wanted_ so that he’ll never _want_ to leave again.”

The imposter did that. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose, maybe it was, but Shiro is going to right that mistake, no matter what it takes.

Pidge drums her fingers on the table.

“I suppose we could try to contact the Blade again. Demand that they listen to us — this regards _Keith_. He’s still one of us, no matter which group he’s with.”

Lance doesn’t seem to agree that the Blade will listen, but Hunk nods along and speaks before the former can.

“Yeah, before, we were all really messed up after hearing all that happened. Perhaps now, when we’ve all had some time to digest this information, we could actually plan what we say?”

Allura gives an approving hum, and Lance seems to give up his argument.

“I suppose it wouldn’t help to try…”

With all the Paladins agreeable, and Coran expressing his, Allura pulls up the hail.

It isn’t even Kolivan who greeted them. A stony-faced galra, presumably the new deputy, answers the call.

“Paladins of Voltron. What is the matter?”

Allura’s tone is steely.

“We would like to talk to Kolivan. There’s a misunderstanding we would like to clear up.”

The deputy frowns, most likely about to object, but seems to reconsider upon seeing Allura’s deepening frown.

“I’ll call him up.”

And the galra disappears from the screen, leaving behind the purple backdrop. They don’t wait long before the galra reappeared, Kolivan beside him.

This time, the other’s ears twitches, just slightly, but his mood remains otherwise unreadable.

“There’s something we need to say.”

Allura starts with that, and the long tale begins. The other’s mostly stay quiet, the tension in the leader’s shoulders leaking into the others present.

At the end, Kolivan doesn’t speak, deep in thought. Everyone remains silent, watching the leader of the Blades consider their words. It is then that Shiro finally notices the wrinkles that line Kolivan’s forehead. It’s like he has aged a thousand years between the short two days between the last call and this.

At last, he speaks, voice rumbling but lacking the anger that had just been barely in control.

“The state that the cub returned in is still the fault of both parties, you and I, but I see now that we were perhaps too rash in passing judgement.”

There are the barest beginnings of a smile, and it would never grow, not with the situation, but it is enough. The agitation in the room lightens a little, and Shiro can feel the same wry smile appearing.

“Is it possible for us to see Keith then? Perhaps not now, but… Soon.”

A short pause.

“Keith is… currently on a delicate mission. He would not rest until he granted him permission, and even then, he managed to sneak onto the ship. If we order an extraction now, it would compromise the entire mission.”

Shiro’s eye twitches just as Pidge slams her fist on her table now, earning a wince from everyone else in the room.

“What do you _mean_ it’ll compromise the mission?! Did you even _see_ what he was like? He’s going to get _killed_!”

Kolivan lets out a soft laugh, and the very action is so _strange_ that Shiro finds himself shocked out of his rage.

“I’m well aware of that. The longer he stays in the mission, the more at risk he puts both it and the members in. We have decided that it would be in our best interests if we had an immediate extraction and wait for a second opportunity.”

He pauses, expression smoothing back into an unaffected mask.

“Of course, no one is happy with this arrangement, but it is what we must do if we want to continue fighting another day.”

His heart lightening after so long in the darkness, Shiro dares himself to hope.

“Then… is he…?”

“In the end, it’s still a delicate mission, and we need time and precision to get all members out. But yes, it is already in the process.”

And hope sings its song, filling his veins and everyone else in the room, all of the worry seeming to lift away and dissipate to nothing.

Hope.

It is such a strange, delicate, thing. Hope can power people, entire civilisations through dark times, hoping for a better life.

What, then, happens in the absence of hope?

A different Blade member runs up to Kolivan on screen, face tight. She whispers something into his ear, and the leader’s expression widens, then become stricken, and the mask is back in place.

The celebration in the bridge seems to suddenly put itself on mute. Shiro faces the leader, the smile slowly fading.

Both sides are silent, team Voltron watching warily as Kolivan searches for words.

“We… just received news.”

Pause.

“Keith did not make it to the extraction point.”

Pause.

“He was taken by the empire.”

The floor beneath Shiro gives, his gut wrenching down and into space and becoming nothingness. The hope that had swallowed him in its euphoria suddenly turns into a screaming sludge of despair, the transition so sudden that Shiro can’t comprehend it. It had never occurred to him that the mission could fail. Isn’t it what stories always say, that love would conquer all? Why, then? Why must fate once again tear them away? Hasn’t Shiro suffered enough? Hasn’t _Keith_ suffered enough? _What more must they do to finally be happy?_

The news sinks into Shiro’s mind, burying deep into some forgotten recess. _Keith_ . In the hands of the _galra_ . The same part of the galra who forced him into the arena, the same part of the galra who took his arm, _the same part of the galra who would do the same to Keith_ -!

Dimly, Shiro realises that there’s a strangled keening noise from someone in the room. Even later, he realises that it’s coming from _him_ , a sound wrung out from stress and fear and _the absence of hope_ , spilling into the air.

The screen is off, and the others are crowded around Shiro now, hands around him and hugging him and touching him, as if trying to ground him back to this plane.

Keith, in the hands of the galra…

The comforting pats turn constricting, suffocating Shiro, the oppressive atmosphere shutting him down till only a shell remains.

Till there’s nothing left.

\---

Kolivan comes to the castle. Shiro doesn’t know when, doesn’t know why, but he finds himself in the bridge anyway. The other Paladins are already there, waiting, and when the ship comes, Allura goes down to meet him.

Everyone is cold and stiff, and there’s a clear divide between the Blade of Marmora leader and Team Voltron. Kolivan stands off to the side, along with his deputy.

The room is silent when Kolivan pulls out a small hard drive, and presents it to the princess.

She accepts it, but her brow furrows as she turns it over in hand. The thing is tiny.

“What’s this?”

The deputy glances at Kolivan, but the leader stares straight ahead at Allura.

“A few vargas after we received news of Keith’s capture, a video file was sent to one of our abandoned outposts.”

The entire team looks at the small chip in Allura’s palm.

Lance ventures the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“What’s… on the file?”

Kolivan looks away and Shiro realises how uncomfortable he looks. There’s a bad feeling expanding his stomach, like a black hole had opened up inside him.

The deputy speaks simply, the activated mask hiding his expression.

“It’s hard to explain in words.”

Those words spike Shiro’s worry, and there’s a part of him that wants to run away and never come back. A part of him that doesn’t want to _know_. But Shiro steels himself and nods at Allura.

“Pull it up. We’ll need all the information we can get.”

The entire team glances at Shiro, quickly, then murmur their agreements.

Allura looks unsettled, as she fumbles with the drive, slotting it into the system. Only the Blade of Marmora members know what is on it, and neither seems willing, or able, to describe it.

The screen flickers for a moment, purple washing over the blank blue space, and a video appears. It’s paused, the still image focused on a galra soldier, a commander, from the armour she was wearing. Shadows are cast onto the empty wall behind her, all frozen in place.

They all look at Allura one more time, and she presses to play.

“Paladins of Voltron and Galra traitors, there is something that we must discuss.”

The galra in the video leans slightly forward, a smile cutting her face in half.

“We have in our possession something, ah, quite valuable to you.”

She moves, then, and Shiro realises that there’s something behind her. A table, and a jolt of pain shoots up Shiro’s arm, tingling there with the feeling of the saw cutting through bone. Keith is shackled to the table, the chains rattling as he struggles, his eyes wide, pupils blown with fear. He’s been changed out of his Marmora suit, leaving him in the prisoner garb Shiro wishes he never had to see again. Bruises already line what skin they can see.

Keith raises his head in his panic, and whatever’s left in Shiro’s stomach gives way. They can see a _muzzle_ that is lashed to his face. It cuts deep enough that Shiro can see the red imprints in his cheeks, and seeing that _hurts._ Seeing Keith hurt (because Shiro hadn’t been strong enough to protect Keith, even though Keith had _never_ given up on him-) hurts so _badly_ , and Shiro wonders if this is what it feels like for a rift to open inside him.

“The Red Paladin, isn’t it? And a _half-breed_ at that.”

The entire team bristles, and Shiro feels his hand clench onto the edge of the control panel.

The galra commander leans over and she traces a fingernail across Keith’s cheek.

“Quite a beauty, this one. Fights well too. It could have been wonderful in the arena…”

Shiro is snarling now, he realises, and the control panel under his fingers is starting to give way.

The galra commander sighs and leans back. She reaches out of the screen for something, and Keith’s eyes follow her movement. His thrashings grow even wilder, panicked gasps coming through the speakers.

Her hands come back into view, and she’s holding a knife.

Something liquid is pooling in Shiro’s hand.

“Consider this… a warning. Of what there is to come if you do not surrender.”

She moves to Keith’s face, and the other strains his bonds as much as he can, trying to keep away from that galra. The noises he makes, choked gasps and whimpers that almost sound like he’s sobbing. The galra grips Keith’s face, forcing him to stay in place.

She smiles.

“You have a beautiful face. And such striking eyes…”

The smile grows, and Keith is still struggling, the choked sobs becoming louder-

Light flashes off the blade of the knife, and there’s a loud squelch as it sinks into Keith’s left eye, slicing in cleanly and slowly.

Keith _screams_. It’s muffled, but the sound comes tearing through his throat and what makes it through the muzzle is shattered.

The galra’s grin grows wider, and Shiro realises that she’s _enjoying_ this, like a dog lapping up its treats, and Shiro burns a hole through the corner of the control panel.

The knife twists, and Keith’s eye comes out with a sick _pop_. The sound echoes in the bridge, Keith’s screams raising an octave and then choking off into spluttering coughs and raspy breaths.

Keith’s eye slides down the blade of the knife, and Shiro can hear someone throwing up in the background.

The commander turns back to the screen as she removes the eyeball from the blade, and teases it between her fingers.

“This is not the worst that can happen to it.”

Her tone is almost conversational.

The galra steps back to the front, blocking Keith from view.

“Our offer. We will exchange it for the Black Lion, and nothing else.”

She’s still smiling.

“For every movement that you delay it’s surrender to the galra empire, the more this thing will, ah, fall apart. It wouldn’t do for you to get back a toy that’s all broken up, hm?”

The video closes on her smile, and Shiro feels like his world is ending, or maybe, it already has.

The liquid of the control panel is dripping through Shiro’s clenched fist, and everyone else is looking at him. They’re waiting for him to say something, do something, maybe.

They’re waiting for him to be the _leader_.

Shiro is trembling, turning into dust and fog, but his mind feels too sharp. There’s something broken, but he doesn’t have the _time_ to address it.

“We cannot give up the Black Lion.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence, but not one person speaks up and Shiro’s hands clench.

“But we’re _not_ giving up on Keith. He… He’s never given up on me, and I’m not about to give up on him. I made a promise to him once, and I’m not breaking that promise.”

Kolivan exhales, then. There’s a sort of weary half-smile on his face.

“The Blade is working on locating Keith. We’ve managed to narrow down his location to seven most likely bases, but we cannot proceed with any action until we know where he is with one hundred per cent certainty.”

“So that means that we have to wait until they send another video, don’t we?”

It’s Pidge’s quiet voice who speaks, and Shiro is reminded of how close the two of them, Pidge and Keith, have grown from their days of casual acquaintances back on Earth.

Kolivan affirms it, and there is a frown on his face that’s accentuating the bags under his eyes.

Everyone glances at Shiro again.

This time, their looks almost feel like an uneasy expectant, and Shiro remembers how he had reacted before to Keith being in danger.

The hole in the control panel is fresh.

Instead, determination is beginning to burn in his veins, and Shiro feels like he’s been set alight. He was going to bring Keith back _home_ or burn to ashes trying.

“Do whatever it takes to bring him back.”

Shiro takes a step forward, towards Kolivan, towards the screen, maybe one step of many towards _Keith_.

“ _Whatever it takes_.”

The words echo. 

\---

It takes more than two videos.

The second video is hijacked directly onto the castle’s screens. Keith loses all his fingernails and parts of his skin.

The third video comes and everyone tears out their hair because they still haven’t found where Keith is. Keith almost drowns for their efforts.

Shiro isn’t there for the fourth video, and doesn’t make it to the bridge in time. He doesn’t try.

When the fifth video appears, Shiro immediately walks out of the room and takes out his frustrations in the training room. No one tries to find him.

The sixth video comes with the light of hope. Pidge and Hunk, accompanied with the Blade’s most capable technicians, have finally managed to grab onto a lead. Shiro is there to see the moment of glee just as Keith passes out on screen.

The seventh video comes, and everyone is present.

The moment the signal holds, there’s a frantic buzz of activity at the back. The technicians are congregated around the control panel.

They have all the intel, from the ship model to the cell’s location, and the only thing that’s missing is where the _ship_ is. A mission has already been planned and everything is ready, but missing the most vital bit of information is like having a jigsaw puzzle pieced together but missing its centre.

The galra commander is stalking around the room, and this time her expression is a snarl.

“It doesn’t mean much to you, huh? A whole movement, and we’ve heard nothing from you.”

She moves out of the camera, and Keith is back on display.

The muzzle is gone now, and Shiro spies it on the floor, tossed to the side. His clothes have become a tattered mess, singed at the edges and damp in others. Keith’s hair is plastered to his forehead, and chunks of it are missing.

What’s left covers the hole where Keith’s eye used to be.

His hands are spasming in its restraints, twitching erratically, and Keith’s staring blankly at the ceiling, almost like he has shut himself off.

Whatever the galra had done to Keith in the past week has left its mark.

“The central command isn’t happy, you know? There are so much worse things they could be doing to him, but Emperor Zarkon and High Priestess Haggar were kind enough to give you a chance-”

“That’s _enough_ , Commander Aegis.”

The voice chills Shiro’s spine, and he hears Allura whisper, “ _Haggar_.”

The witch, his tormentor, was _there_ , in the same room as _Keith_ . She hadn’t been there for the whole past week and her very presence means that something was wrong. Her very presence terrifies him, sends him back down the dark pit of fear, of dark pools of blood on the floor of the arena, of   _“I made you strong and this is how you repay me?”_ , and the fears become something different, shot and tense. What was she going to do to Keith? _What was she going to do to Keith?_

A hand ghosts across his back, and Shiro whips around, nerves shot and arm lit up.

It’s Lance, and both of them flinch.

Shiro is about to apologise, but Lance shakes his head and just tells him, softly, “Breathe, Shiro. We’re going to get him back.”

There’s shame that’s burning in Shiro now, and he just nods quickly. The Blue Paladin doesn’t seem convinced, but even as he stays by Shiro’s side, Lance turns his attention to the screen.

Haggar glides into view, and her very presence makes the room feel dark, like a storm has just taken residence overhead. She seems to have sucked all the light out of the room.

She takes a moment to glaze coolly into the lens, then turns to Keith. Some life seems to have been breathed back into him, and there’s hate in the eyes that follow Haggar around.

“There have been many problems the Empire’s been facing recently. We have become aware of an insurgent group, galra traitors, that fight to overthrow Emperor Zarkon’s rule.”

Keith does not respond, and Haggar does not wait for one, moving on as she circles her prey.

“Tell me who they are.”

There is so much venom in his voice when Keith spits, “ _Go to hell_.”

Haggar doesn’t seem phased, and it’s through Shiro’s rising panic that he sees purple lightning gathering at her fingertips.

The world darkens around the edges, and Shiro almost feels like _he_ can feel the electricity arcing through _his_ body, violently tearing through _him_ \- (like a burning strike through his side as he faced the witch-!)

There’s a sudden exclamation at the back.

_“We found him!”_

Someone grips Shiro’s arm, and when he turns, both Lance and Allura are smiling at him.

Lance repeats, “We’re going to get him back.”

There’s relief now, slowly unfreezing Shiro from whatever state of anxiety he had slipped into, and a slow smile is beginning to take hold.

Tension seeps out of Kolivan’s shoulders, but he remains stoic.

“We must hurry,” he urges, and almost like it’s cued, there’s a sharp screech that echoes through the bridge.

The celebration cuts off and everyone turns back to the screen, the euphoria turning into mush.

Keith spasms on the screen, electricity still visibly flickering through his limbs, and all everyone has to do is take one look at him before they spring into action. The Blades disappear from the bridge and into the hangars, where their ships wait. The deputy stays on the bridge with Coran, and the Paladins scatter to their Lions.

Shiro can feel the nervous energy thrumming under his fingers when he grips the joysticks and the Black Lion comes to life beneath him. There’s something overcharged that is stretching thin between him and the Lion, residue from his residence in the astral plane. It pulses, and Shiro can hear Black whispering in his mind, just strings that tugged at his edges, connected firmly only by one thread of worry.

“Here we go.”

The castle rumbles, and there’s the distant roar of a wormhole. The entire hangar shudders just slightly, and the doors open to a sea of purple dotted with red.

“Go, go! You know what to do!”

The bond screams only one name, and the Black Lion tears out of the hangar.

The deputy and Coran do something to the galra ship’s system, one concentrated blast that seems to target the ship’s power core. And it works, the lights blinking out like Zarkon’s ship had so long ago. Hunk, Lance and Pidge head off with the majority of the Blade members to distract as many troops as they can, while Allura stays with Shiro and the remaining Blades speed towards the biggest ship.

Keith is there.

Already, Shiro could feel the bond between them, maybe through the Black Lion, maybe through something else, and it stretches so thin that he fears it might snap.

The fear powers his anger, and the Black Lion burns a hole through the ship.

Allura hisses over the comms to be careful, but there’s the odd relief of watching explosions rock the ship that loosens some of the tension in Shiro’s shoulders.

But the job is done, and they have an entry point now. The others cycle above them, blowing off anyone who approaches, and Shiro quickly lands the Black Lion as close as he dares. Followed by Allura and a few Blade members, they enter the heart of the ship.

The alarms are blaring inside the ship. They were informed that it runs on a different system to the rest of the ship, and it is unimportant enough to lend their limited time into turning it off. Shiro wishes that they did as it drills through the walls and through his helmets and into everyone who’s on the ship, a shrill whining that refuses to shut up. The soldiers they encounter are as tense as them and they all fight with savagery, falling upon each other like lions to wolves who threaten their den.

The lions win.

Allura stops at every junction to read Keith’s energy signature, but Shiro somehow always knows where to go seconds before she does. It doesn’t take long before the group comes to the unspoken decision to just follow him as he steamrolls onwards.

There’s a tug in his soul, and Shiro wonders if this is what Allura feels every time she reads the signature of another person. The thought makes him uncomfortable, almost resentful, like Allura is _intruding_ on something.

Shiro shoves it aside.

They are maybe a few rows to the jail cells when it starts.

The alarms overhead abruptly cut out, and the sudden silence is jarring enough to throw them off, footsteps faltering. There’s a loud screech of static, and then-

The screaming begins.

Shiro can tell it’s Keith, can hear every word in his voice even though he doesn’t speak, just one long, unending scream. They play it over the speakers, and everyone can hear the “ _shlp shlp”_ in the background, a blade sinking into Keith, over and over and over and over.

Everyone starts to sprint, but it still takes too long for them to reach, too long too long too long.

They all start throwing open the cell doors, and Shiro’s heart wrenches painfully. He heads towards the one door that his soul seems to be drawn towards, and his steps are frantic, wide and heavy as he scrambles across the tiles, footsteps pounding and pounding and pounding (and his heart that pounds and screams at him too.)

Shiro feels like he can almost hear Keith’s screams grow louder and louder _and louder AND LOUDER-_

He melts through the door with the prosthetic, and Keith’s on the table, mouth still open in one endless keen of pain but he’s there and he’s in one piece and _why is there so much dread?_

There’s so much dread that fills the room in the stink of human misery and the coppery stink of blood and the stink of _how wrong this all is._

There’s so much dread that fills the room in Keith’s screams, that goes on even though there’s no one in the room-

There’s so much dread that fills the room.

There’s so much dread.

Shiro’s soul screams as he reaches out for the table and suddenly there’s a galra and they’re both running to the table but the galra is closer and there’s a knife and there’s a knife and there’s a knife andthere’saknife and suddenly there’s a hole.

Shiro’s soul screams as the knife is plunged into Keith’s throat.

There’s so much dread.

There’s so much dread.

There’s so much

There’s so much

dread.

The galra lies dead.

Shiro is beside Keith and he’s so warm and he’s so warm and he can’t be dead how can he be dead? How can Keith be dead? How can he be dead?

There’s blood pouring down, and Shiro is struck by the thought that this is how his clone died and the thought burns like acid because how can Keith be dead? How can Keith be dead?

The world is fading at the edges as Shiro frees Keith from his bonds and gently closes Keith’s mouth because his jaw must be sore from having it open so wide from the screaming (He’s not dead howcanhebedead) and they need to do something for those wounds.

There’s a singing thought in the back of his head and it whispers quintessence to him and he needs quintessence so that Keith can live (he’s not dead he’s not dead) heal and Shiro can finally tell him all that’s happened and maybe they can finally have the happy future both of them deserves and the thought supplies him with images of a cosy house on Earth, free from this war against Zarkon and _Shiro needs quintessence._

There’s a singing thought in the back of his head and it whispers quintessence to him and Shiro knows what to do.

He gathers ~~the body~~ Keith in his arms and he walks out of the room and he shrugs off the arms that try to stop him, the bodies that have appeared in the room.

The singing thought laughs and the singing thought whispers and the Black Lion takes off for Daibazaal.

Keith is still warm.

The journey is short or the journey is long but they reach Daibazaal and that is all that matters. The gate waits and the singing thought speaks now and it tells him that it can give him power and it can give him what he needs so that Keith can blink and his heart can beat and Shiro can finally breathe.

Keith is still warm.

(Keith is cold.)

The Black Lion enters the gate, and the Lion is slow and the moment she enters she powers off and it’s strange but it doesn’t matter because _they’re through the gate_ and _they’re in the rift_ and Shiro takes Keith into his arms and opens the hatch.

A song courses through him, powerful and burning and it tears Shiro apart and it puts Shiro back together and it takes and it gives and it kills and it heals.

Keith shudders and Shiro’s sight tinges in violet.

Suddenly, they’re back in a world of purple light and everything is falling apart at the edges.

But Keith is there, and he’s standing up, and everything is okay. At last, they’re both together again.

Keith’s smiling, and there’s so much relief in his expression. There’s something that passes between, something that suffocates and liberates as they move closer and closer and Keith pulls Shiro into a kiss. The passion behind it burns them both, searing and hot and desperate and... it’s _exhilarating._

They collapse against each other, Keith nestled into Shiro’s shoulder, and he feels Keith’s lips move.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Something warm floats through Shiro, a vague memory of a promise so long ago, and his voice is only a whisper.

“It’s good to be back.”

A pause, and softer.

“I’m never leaving you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! i really do :)))  
> the next one is a lot lighter than this one (im not joking, i swear)


	4. (2) even when i’m lost i know

even when i’m lost i know

_you’re still my guiding light_

i hold your words deep in my heart

_patience yields focus_

 

There’s panic that fuels his movements. The moment they enter the hallway that leads into the simulator room, both he and Matt exchange a look and begin to run.

There’s ugly laughter that comes from the training room.

As they near the room, the dread that has been building up becomes full-blown alarm at the smell of blood in the air and the repeated sounds of boots on flesh. The door opens, and Shiro’s heart falls through the floor.

There’s blood that splatters across the floor, and Keith lies limp on the floor, body curled up into a ball as if trying to shield himself from the blows. There are maybe eight other cadets that stand over him, all laughing as they kick viciously.

They haven’t even noticed Shiro and Matt in the room.

_“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”_

Shiro bellows across the room and the other cadets freeze.

They all turn simultaneously to face the pair, and something in their expressions must look murderous because they all scatter. It doesn’t matter that they escape now -- Shiro will hunt down every single one of them later -- what’s important is that Keith is shivering on the tiles of the floor and there’s blood that pools underneath him.

“Oh, god…”

Shiro drops to his knees beside him, and gently pulls him into his arms. Keith makes a strangled noise, and so much worry that pulses through him.

“Don’t worry Keith, you’re gonna be okay.”

Keith makes a noise and his eyes open just a sliver. His gaze is hazy and unfocused, and Keith just looks so _small_.

“...Safe…?”

He looks terrible, small and covered in so much blood, and his voice sounded so _scared_ . Shiro can feel his voice choke up. The panic has left its mark, and the tears that are falling is a reminder. He has _never_ seen Keith as vulnerable as this before, has never seen Keith with all his walls down, for all the wrong reasons.

“Yes, Keith. You’re safe now.”

Keith exhales, a soft, breathy thing and he closes his eyes again.

Matt materializes beside him, and his voice is panicked.

“We need to get him to the medical bay right now!”

Shiro pulls Keith to his chest, and they hurry out of the room is a grim silence.

The journey to the medical bay is short, but the hours after is torturous.

Matt spends it searching for the cadets who assaulted Keith while Shiro stays with Keith, keeping silent vigil beside his bed when the nurses allow him back in.

He returns with a grin, settling into the second chair.

“I managed to hack into their student records and phones. Found some… pretty interesting stuff. I’m sure everyone needs a few laughs with how stressful the examination period is.”

Shiro tilts his head in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything beyond that. Matt’s smile fades, and he sits down next to Shiro.

“Look, I know that you’re concerned for him, but you need to take care of yourself too, alright? You’ve been here for way too long. Go take a walk, eat something, take a shower. Your clothes are covered in blood.”

Shiro feels the urge to snap at Matt, that no, it is _not_ too long when Keith lies in front of them, his body battered and bruised and his breathing laboured. But Matt’s eyes hold only worry, and Shiro knows that he’s just trying to help.

Instead, Shiro takes a breath and replies tersely, “I’m not leaving until he wakes up.”

Matt presses his lips into a thin line.

“I know you really like him, but you don’t need to do this. I mean, with how long it has been, you’re probably not even his soulmate-”

The words are careless, and Matt’s eyes widen the moment he says it, cutting himself off too late. He knows he’s crossed a line.

Shiro knows it too, and he can’t clamp down his irritation. There’s already too much on his mind, and he doesn’t need the additional headache of his soulmark.

“Look, Matt, I don’t want to _think_ about all this soulmate shit, alright? If you’re just going criticise me, then get out.”

Matt winces, but he shakes his head.

“Shiro-”

“Shi...ro?”

Immediately, their attention turns to the person on the bed. Keith is struggling to get up, and he squints in their direction.

“Wha- Ouch.”

Keith deadpans, and then drops back onto the bed before Shiro can react.

There’s a delayed reaction as Matt and Shiro stare at Keith, and then Matt flies out of his chair and a loud cry of _“I’ll get the nurse!”_ as Shiro just gapes at Keith.

“You’re _awake_!”

Keith stares up at the ceiling.

“Unfortunately.”

“ _You’re awake!_ ”

Suddenly Keith is crushed between his arms in a hug that can be mistaken to be a second attempt to kill the man.

He can feel Keith tense minutely, but his tone is joking.

“Ouch, ouch, yeah, good to see you too.”

Shiro doesn’t let go, and Keith lets out a pained whine.

“Hey, I didn’t wake up just to die.”

Releasing Keith, Shiro collapses back in his chair. For a moment, the room is silent, before Keith narrows his eyes.

“Is that my _blood_ ? On your _shirt_?”

Shiro feels the blood rising to his cheeks, and mumbles, “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Keith’s smile seems to fade a little, but he shakes his head and just makes a shooing gesture.

“At least get changed.”

“Yessir.”

Shiro salutes sharply, but there’s a teasing note in his voice.

The other just closes his eyes.

“ _Scram._ ”

He does leave the room, but hangs out outside long enough for the nurse to arrive. It’s then when the nurse takes one look at him and firmly pushes him out of the medical bay.

(“That is both gross _and_ unhygienic. Get out of my clinic.”)

Shiro visits as much as he can to keep Keith company, taking with him whatever assignments the other has to help him keep up with the curriculum. It takes a few days before Keith is cleared to leave the medical bay, and a few weeks before he is back to some form of his previous physical condition. Even then, he walks with a slight limp, and every time Shiro sees Keith wince sets the embers of fury burning again.

He doesn’t believe that Keith is a fan of petty revenge, so he elects to ignore the middle finger the other sends Julian’s way when they cross each other in the hallway.

He turns an interesting colour of red, and Shiro becomes momentarily deaf when Keith brushes past Julian and whispers, “I lived, _bitch_.”

He drags Keith away before anything worse can happen, leaving Julian behind to stew in his fury.

It has been a wonderful week thus far, honestly. All the cadets involved were suspended, and the board is currently pending expulsion. Word of the fight has spread, and with how unfair the eight-on-one fight had been, most of the cadets’ names have been dragged through the mud. Through a rather unfortunate hacking incident, message receipts between Julian and the eight have been circulating throughout the student body. The rage of being beaten one too many times had lead to an expletive-filled rant on how much he wanted Keith to die, and it seems that a few of his followers had taken his wish too literally.

By all technicalities, Julian couldn’t be punished, but there are things in the world scarier than Iverson’s lectures, and that’s Matt, on his computer, huddled in his bed in near total darkness, cackling like the mad scientist he is.

\---

Exam week passes uneventfully, and it’s the weekend after that when Shiro works up the nerve. He feels guilty the entire time, like he’s cheating on whoever is his soulmate. It’s as _friends_ , Shiro reminds himself, but it doesn’t stop the cloud of _wrongness_ that hovers over him.

He sets the thought firmly aside.

Shiro finds Keith on the rooftop, and takes a moment to admire how relaxed he looks. He’s reminded of another night, not so long ago, under the light of meteors that shot across the sky, and even though the memory is bittersweet, Shiro can appreciate the image of Keith, eyes alight with wonder as the stars danced above him. This time, it’s the sun that sets, the fiery glow casting shadows across the desert and the rooftop.

“Hey.”

Shiro settles down beside Keith, tucking his knees to his chest as the other remains on his back. Keith hums his reply, his eyes staying closed.

“Tomorrow…” Shiro fumbles, slightly, “I was thinking of going to town, to just kind of _relax_ for a day. Matt recommended to me this new cafe that opened, and it seems pretty interesting. Wanna come?”

The silence stretches enough to become a little uncomfortable, and Shiro’s mind panics as he contemplates the fastest route of escape.

“...Are you asking me on a date?”

Keith’s laugh sounds a little forced, but the amusement is there.

Shiro is almost relieved that Keith replies, but then the words set in and he starts violently choking.

“Wha-What-No! N-no, I mean-no, no-”

Suddenly, words don’t quite seem to form right in his mouth, all coming out broken, and Shiro can’t help the blush that rises up his face. Keith bursts into laughter at his predicament, and Shiro curses himself for the fluttery feeling in his stomach.

“So I’ll see you there, then?”

Keith pats Shiro’s leg, still chuckling, and waves off his grumbles.

“Yeah. 0800 at the mess hall? Got it.”

Shiro grouches a bit more, then bids Keith farewell and removes himself from the rooftop.

Back inside the building, Shiro takes a moment to calm down and try to slow his pounding heart.

 _Think of your_ soulmate _, Shiro,_ he chides himself, but even then, it doesn’t stop him from remembering the way Keith’s eyes twinkled, the way his laugh’s deep and rich, the way the sun reflected off his strange purple eyes.

Shiro doesn’t remember what he dreams that night, but he wakes up feeling a guilty satisfaction. The next day dawns with skies still streaked with reds. There’s still time, so Shiro sits himself at his small desk. The table is scattered with trash, scrunched up paper balls and food wrappers, an empty mug with coffee stains at the bottom. There’s still time, so Shiro starts clearing his table. He gets rid of all the rubbish, sets the cup aside to take down to the kitchen later, then starts organising his papers and stationery. He’s halfway through, most papers already stacked neatly, when something catches his eye. It’s sticking out of the bottom of the “to clear” stack, but the words that he can see makes him hesitate.

Shiro pulls it out, and there it is.

It’s dated a week or so ago, forgotten in all the panic that the whole month has been.

A handwritten letter from Sam Holt, and the words _“Mission to Kerberos”_ is printed at the very top, in neat letters and a steady font size. Shiro stares down at the sheet of paper and unfolds it, rereading the letter. The paper is creased at the edge; corners had accidentally folded and had been pressed flat by the weight of the stack on top of it.

Shiro runs through the letter one more time, but everything else are just formalities - the only thing that sticks is the invitation at the very end.

_“It is my greatest honour to ask you to be our pilot to Kerberos.”_

When he received the letter, it was all excitement and exclamations, all pride and laughs, all the need to find Keith and scream the news at him. Matt showed up, giddy and sprouting technical babble about how Keith was the literal angel sent from heaven, and both set back towards the simulator.

And then there was the scent of blood in the hallways, the laughter that echoed, and there was Keith, a small, broken form as crimson leaked.

The thoughts cast Shiro’s good mood into darkness, and he can’t help but wonder if he could have done something to stop it. He should have known that Keith would become a target after the humiliation that Julian suffered, should have left his room earlier, faster, should have, _could_ have done something _better_.

His watch vibrates, and Shiro realises that he’s almost late. The paper is left on the table, the coffee mug forgotten, and Shiro slams his door a little too hard on the way out.

Keith is already there when he reaches, reading something on his tablet. The moment Shiro sets foot onto the mess hall’s floor, Keith’s Shiro radar pings and his head shoots up, tucking the tablet away from sight. It’s impossible to sneak up on the kid.

There’s a bright smile that graces Shiro’s face, and Keith’s is smaller but equally as warm.

“Didn’t forget anything?”

Keith shakes his head, and they set off towards the hangars. The walk there is comfortable, and they joke about astronomy and space, like the nerds they are. There’s only a little deliberation once they reach their rides -- technically, Keith isn't allowed to ride on the flyers. But being with the Garrison’s golden boy has its perks, and most people are willing to overlook it after a laugh and a joke. Shiro almost feels ashamed, but maybe a bit of Keith’s rubbed off of him -- he’s willing to bend the rules.

They manage to get out of the campus without any problem, and soon the imposing buildings are far behind them as they set out towards town.

The day’s only just started.

Town’s a little under an hour away, and the road there is pretty much unused and deserted. They take the time to drive impressively faster whatever is the recommended speed for that road, and when Keith laughs and calls him a rule-breaker, Shiro feels so happy that he almost smashes head first into a cliffside. It’s only his quick reflexes that save him, and even then, his bike now has a nasty scrape across the side. He deems it a worthy tradeoff when Keith continues teasing him through the entire journey, his smile never leaving his face.

The way Keith changes every time he rides is astounding. It’s like he becomes an entirely new person, something free and alive, that laughs with the wind and dances around in manoeuvres too graceful to be human. It’s amazing to think that Keith has only been flying for barely two years -- the way he does it would make anyone with eyes think that he’s been flying for a lifetime. Heck, it almost seems like he _depends_ on flying to keep him alive.

The thoughts preoccupy Shiro, but this time he heeds enough attention on the road to prevent another close scrape with death. They make it to the town in one piece, and end up spending the better part of an hour finding the elusive cafe. It’s funny how well it manages to find from two people from the military, hiding in plain sight in the admittedly small town. Eventually, they find the cafe that Matt had spent the entirety of last week gushing about, nestled into the corner of a cluster of blocks.

The exterior is built in old bricks and worn wood and the name is in calligraphy, a small cat paw imprinted below the text. Shiro confirms that it’s the same cafe as the one in the shaky image Matt sent him, and they park their bikes. Shiro doesn’t turn away in time to miss Keith shaking his matted hair out as he removes his helmet, and his head remains ducked until Shiro is certain that the faint blush that has risen up to his cheeks are gone. Keith’s staring at him, and there’s a moment of panic when he wonders if his face is still red.

“Let’s go!”

Keith’s voice sounds strangled and Shiro’s panic makes him mute as they both essentially sprint to the door. The bells attached jingles when they enter, and they find themselves in a tiny room, another door on the other side. There’s someone behind a counter just beside the door and she straightens up the moment they enter. She beckons them over, and there’s a warm smile on her face.

“Welcome to Catfeteria! I take it you haven’t been here before?”

Shiro realises belatedly that he never found out what kind of cafe this is, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore, his life is complete.

They’re in a _cat cafe_.

He manages to choke out a “No” over his excitement, and the smile widens on the barista’s face. She explains the cafe and the rules, and though her voice is soft, there’s a brightness there that cannot be faked. This is a job that she really enjoys, and it shows.

They pay, Shiro’s hand shaking so much that he actually drops his wallet, and Nicole -- the name on her name tag -- passes them keys and nods towards the lockers.

“Shoes go there, and afterwards you’re free to go! I hope you enjoy your stay!”

Shiro positively starts vibrating with excitement, and he’s pretty sure that there are stars in his eyes when he turns around to face Keith.

“ _Cats,_ Keith. I _love_ cats. Oh my god, we’re in a cat cafe. A _cat cafe_!”

Keith looks away and picks at the corner of his shirt, but there’s a smile on his face.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m more of a dog person.”

Shiro gasps in betrayal, turning away to take off his shoes.

“Keith, I thought you were better than this!”

He pauses.

“Okay, how about a _space_ cat?”

Keith seems to contemplate the thought, following Shiro in removing his shoes.

“Hm, maybe a wolf? A cosmic wolf sounds so much cooler than a space cat.”

Shiro just scowls, and together they push open the door.

Inside, he is greeted by the warm glow of fairy lights and a sprawling tree that spreads across half the room, its leaves swaying gently in the light breeze of the air conditioning. None of that matters, however, when they notice the significantly more important occupants in the next room, just past the door.

There are maybe fifteen cats sprawled across the room, and Shiro doesn’t even notice himself taking Keith’s hands and gripping them tightly in excitement, his mouth open in wonder.

The garrison doesn’t allow pets, and he never knew anyone with a cat -- the closest is Matt and the Holt family’s dog -- so this is presently the most important moment in his life, ever.

“ _Cats._ ”

Currently, Shiro has lost all his vocabulary, and there’s only one thing he knows -- that’s the felines that are currently blessing them with their existence. He just repeats this again when he turns to look at Keith, who is gaping down at their hands as his cheeks _burned_.

There’s something that stirs in him, but before he can identify what it is, they’re startled apart when a cat rams into the side of Shiro’s legs.

Or, at least, he thinks it’s a cat. There’s a mini fire truck by his feet instead that rests on its back, and they’re both gawking down at it when the fire truck begins to rattle and let out distressed cat noises. That shakes Shiro out of his stupor, and he actually falls in his eagerness to flip the truck back over. From the vantage point on the floor, he’s face to face to the cat that pops out of an opening at the top of the truck, and they stare at each other for all of ten seconds before the cat boops his nose.

Shiro falls backwards and collapses again. He feels like he has been given the holiest gift ever and -- he’s never washing his nose again. The fire truck continues on its merry way as Shiro malfunctions on the floor, and Keith is looking down on him with concern, prodding him with one toe.

Keith gives him all of five seconds before attempting to drag Shiro by the leg, then deeming it too much effort and just abandoning him on the floor for the food counter. There are people staring, but instead Shiro just mourns how easily their deep and strong bond has been broken.

He lies there, then when the cats begin to treat him as furniture and walk over him, Shiro decides that as much as he would love to become a permanent fixture of the room, it is time to get up. He joins Keith at the counter, where the barista is laughing at something Keith must have said. Shiro’s smile fuzzes around the edges, and the barista’s eyes darts between Keith and him.

“The two of you fit really well together. My Ma would say that you’re just like me and Nicole — they all knew we were soulmates before we knew it ourselves!”

Keith splutters, but there’s an uncomfortable edge to the noise that urges Shiro to cut over him with a polite smile.

“We’re not soulmates.”

The barista — Ian — pinks and stammers out, “O-oh, my god. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Shiro purposefully leans over to squint at his name tag even though he already knows his name -- he’d like to imagine that if he wore glasses, he would be peering over the edge of them -- “ _Ian_.”

They leave the barista to self-destruct over his mistake, claiming a table by the windows. When Shiro turns to look at Keith, the other’s eyebrows are slightly raised.

He doesn’t ask anything, and Shiro makes the decision not to answer until the force of Keith’s stare makes him want to melt into the chair.

“... _What_ .” Shiro’s voice is defensive, almost _pouty_ and he really wants to melt now.

Keith scrutinizes him for just a moment more. His expression softens, just slightly, even though he looks the most bemused Shiro has ever seen him in a while.

“Isn’t it usually _you_ who tells me not to act all passive-aggressive?”

Shiro feels his lips turn down, and god he’s _actually_ pouting now. Instead of letting this moment of shame linger, Shiro turns his head away and stabs at the cake he nabbed. He can hear Keith laugh, and Shiro’s fork stutters as it scratches the plate. He takes a moment to compose himself, file the laugh into a forbidden corner of his brain, and resumes his slow torture of the cake.

They’re content in their tiny bubble of quiet, eating their lunch with just the faint twinkle of conversation and doorbells soothing the ears. Shiro fails to stop himself from staring at Keith, but it’s a battle he has never won before so he’s not even sure why he tries. There’s consistent light dusting of red around Keith’s cheeks that makes him wonder if Keith has a cold. It’s really concerning, if he’s sick with how weak his immune system had become and Shiro contemplates if it would be okay to test for Keith’s temperature when the first invader attacks their paradise.

It’s a cat, and the meowing draws their attention down to Keith’s legs. The cat has a spotted coat, black dappled with white, and it’s pawing at Keith’s trousers. As they stare, another cat joins the first, and then another, and pretty soon Keith is surrounded by a sea of pawing, meowing cats. Keith’s sitting ramrod straight, face turned away from the rest of the room where everyone is looking over at them.

“ _Shiro, what do I do?_ ”

He doesn’t know. It’s like all the cats have simultaneously decided to migrate to Keith, and he’s not even _doing_ anything.

 _Meow, meow_.

“You could try petting them?”

Keith fixes him with a look, but Shiro just shrugs.

“Cats aren’t even my favourite animals — argh, stop clawing me — I don’t _know_ how to pet them.”

There’s an edge of desperation to Keith’s expression, and Shiro leaves his coffee for the cats. He gets down onto his knees (right beside Keith, but that’s not the point) and coos at the cats, let’s them sniff at his hand, and through some hard work manages to coax a few over to his side. It’s still a far cry in numbers when compared to the other cats that are surrounding Keith — the entire cafe’s cats have probably journeyed over to their table by now — but at least he looks a little less like a deer caught in headlights. Keith is also bent over, tentatively running his hand through their fur, but there’s a smile that’s slowly growing on his face.

“They seem to really like you.”

Shiro jumps, hand momentarily stilling on the back of what used to be the fire truck cat.

It’s Nicole, and Ian is hovering behind her, looking sheepish. They join Shiro on the floor, Keith sliding down from his beanbag.

The cats crowd around and the four of them don’t say much as they enjoy the company of the cats. No one really speaks, and some cats come and go, but the atmosphere is peaceful, almost like Shiro’s fallen into some sort of fairytale. They stay like that until the second hour is up, and they bid the couple farewell, stumbling out of the cafe. Outside, the sun is bright and piercing, and Shiro feels like some kind of spell has been broken. Keith and Shiro exchange a look, and yeah, they’re definitely going back to the cafe again someday. The tranquillity there is _addictive_.

They stay outside the cafe and squint at the sun, then Keith suggests, “Do you want to go to the desert? There’s… a place I’d like to go.”

They aren’t required back in the garrison just yet, and it’s rare enough that Keith wants to share a part of his life. Every time he shows Shiro something about him, no matter how small, is a triumph. It’s like a light that shines through the cracks in the walls Keith has built around his heart, and everything that Keith’s willing to give, Shiro’s willing to take. He has noticed Keith staring towards the desert before, always in the same direction and his expression wistful. Shiro’s never asked -- he’s willing to wait.

Shiro hums his agreement, and they get onto the bikes. This time, their pace is slower, Shiro following Keith and the other riding slowly, like he’s treading across a long forgotten path. This time, there’s no whooping, only silence save for the roar of the engines and the blast of the sand.

The ride is long, but Shiro’s willing to wait.

The sun’s already beginning to set when a tiny dot appears in the horizon. Keith seems to recognise the dot, his expression tightening as he revs his engine, speeding along the desert ground. Now that they have a clear destination, it only takes a couple more minutes before they reach. It’s a shack, dilapidated and honestly, mere ruins stranded in the desert. The door creaks and then falls completely off its hinges with a soft exhale when they open it. Dust and webs coat the room, sand and grime piling in the corners. The roof is falling apart, planks missing as the light shines through the holes. The entire shack is lit up with a soft glow, and it’s beautiful in its disrepair.

Shiro steps into the shack, but Keith is still standing in the doorway, his clenched fists frozen by his side.

“...Keith?”

His eyes dart around the room, landing on what could have been a bookshelf, a couch, a table, now just dusty remains on the floor.

Shiro waits.

Keith swallows, and he steps in.

Shiro’s willing to wait for what Keith’s willing to give.

“I… grew up here.”

His voice is distant, reminiscing.

“I never knew my mum. She disappeared when I was too young to remember anything, leaving me with just my dad. It was just me and him in this shack, in the middle of the desert…”

Keith exhales sharply, and raises one hand to scrub roughly at his eyes.

“Keith… you don’t have to tell me anything-“

His expression pinches.

“No. No, I- It’s fine. I want to say this. I…”

Inhale, exhale.

“I trust you, Shiro. You’ve never forced me to give any answers, and I. I really appreciate it.”

Softer.

“I trust you, and I want to tell you this.”

Night begins to fall in the desert, and it’s chilly. He tells Shiro, a quiet voice pulled taunt, five-years-old and just him and his dad living in a shack, six-years-old and alone in the desert, seven-years-old and passed around like a package, left with only a knife and a jacket that’s too big to wear. The homes weren’t all bad, but Keith’s voice wavers when he glosses over some of the homes that he hated, homes that denied food and marked his skin with scars.

He talks about the old couple who loved him like their own, who passed on swiftly one after another, one from a heart attack and another in his sleep; he talks about the kids in his school that bullied him for being different, how much he cared and then how he didn’t care anymore; he talks about overcrowded houses with too little to go to too many; he whispers about a lady and a man whose marriage was barely held together, how they took out their frustrations on _him_.

Night begins to fall in the desert, and it’s chilly. Shiro feels like a hand has closed around his heart as he listens, choking his blood as pain physically pulses in his chest. Night begins to fall in the desert, and Keith’s walls fall slowly, slowly, with it. Behind them is someone bitter and chipped, a broken castle of crushed glass and brick shards.

Keith doesn’t meet his eyes; he whispers, voice hoarse now, that he never felt like he _belonged_ anywhere, just a leaf that drifted in an endless river to nowhere.

Night falls in the desert, and it’s chilly. Shiro feels the chill to his heart, and Keith has known this chill from the moment he was born. He stays with Keith after he stops talking, doesn’t suggest they move, and they just sit on the old couch until Keith falls asleep on his shoulder, and night blurs with day when Shiro’s eyes close and his mind blanks. He dreams of the warmth beside him, and how much he wants to hug him tight, to keep him safe in his arms.

\---

The skies are still misty when Shiro wakes up, drowsy, and his side is cold. Keith is not beside him, or anywhere in the room. There’s a jump of worry that has Shiro fully awake, but he looks through the doorway to outside, and he sees Keith on the small hill just beyond the shack.

He gets up from the old couch, joints cracking as he stretches, a dull ache in his neck from the unnatural position he fell asleep in. Shiro pauses just outside the house, and watches Keith on the hill. There’s a tenseness that’s gone from his shoulders, a weight that has been there for so long that no one even knew it existed. He looks relaxed, someone who has finally shared his worries, his troubles, someone who has finally let his feelings go from a bottle that has been too small for ten years too long. Keith doesn’t look happy per se, but he looks at peace.

Shiro joins him on the hill, footsteps scraping across the sandy hill. Keith has his phone out, and he’s scrolling through his messages.

“Hey.”

Keith remains silent for a moment, and then he stops at a particular message and looks up, brow furrowed.

“Matt texted to ask where we were.”

Shiro feels the blood drain from his face and he freezes on the spot. Matt knows about his crush and finds it nothing short of amusing. Who _knows_ what he’s been saying to Keith.

“I told him that we accidentally spent the night in the shack and he sent me back a… face.”

His fingers chill even as his face starts to burn, because _oh my god,_ Keith could not have worded it any worse than he did.

“A...anything else?”

There’s so much dread even asking the question.

Keith’s expression lifts, eyes bright and matched with a grin that’s overflowing with excitement.

“Yeah! He told me that Commander Holt asked you to be the pilot for the Kerberos mission- Did he? Did he actually ask you to pilot _the_ mission to the furthest corner of the solar system?

Shiro’s mouth drops, because _holy shit he completely forgot about that_. The morning’s worries seem have all been repelled by Keith’s enthusiasm.

“He did, god, can you _believe_ ? It has been my dream for so long to go the furthest man has gone, and- _oh my god_!”

It’s like the news are sinking into him a second time, and Shiro feels delirious with joy, like he’s ready to break into a dance-

_“Everyone’s always left. No one stays.”_

The euphoria falters, Shiro’s rant cutting itself off. Keith is still beside him, but his smile is genuine, even is crooked. His hand rests on Shiro’s arm.

“It’s just a year. I’ll be fine.”

Shiro draws his eyebrows together.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m not going to stop you from reaching your dream. I know how important this is to you. It’s just… going to be a year.”

Keith’s grip is tight on his arm, urgent and earnest. He pauses, and his hand falls back to his side. There’s a note of uncertainty when he continues.

“Promise me that you’ll come back?”

His voice is small when he speaks, like a child to his father, hesitant in the desert.

Shiro offers his hand to shake instead. Keith stares down at it, and seconds pass in silence, contemplating.

He takes his hand, like he had so long ago, outside a school and in front of a bike. Shiro shakes his hand firmly.

“I promise, Keith. I’ll make it back. I _won’t_ leave you.”

_Like everyone else._

He doesn’t need to speak to know that Keith hears those words.

There’s a strange emotion in Keith’s eyes, something raw even as the scab peels to reveal new skin. He takes a step forward, and pulls Shiro into a hug, hand still clasped between them.

It’s awkward, Keith not quite tall enough to fit comfortably on his shoulder, but there’s something powerful that pulses between them, like Keith has finally let him into the castle of broken glass.

He’s quiet, barely a whisper that is caught by the wind.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is happy!
> 
> ... and also the only fluff you will get in this story.  
> we're going back to angst town next chapter, kiddos.


	5. (5)

_ho҉w ma̵n̵y ti̷m͠es are ͘y̸o͝u g͠onn̡a have͢ ͜to ͟sav͢e̛ ͢m͡ȩ before this̡ ̛i͞ş ̧o҉v͡e͜r͞?_

 

The mission is a failure.

There’s no way to sugarcoat this truth. Allura vaguely thinks that this is almost as bad as the first time they took Zarkon head on, but then she amends the thought. This is _worse_ than that fight. At least, then, all the Paladins had gotten out of it alive. All of her _family_ had gotten out of it alive.

She remembers Shiro, walking past them like they didn’t exist, out of the room, cradling Keith’s body in his arms.

Allura spends the hours after the mission under the shower, letting the scalding water burn her skin as it rains down upon her, like the judgement she deserves. Whatever blood that got on her is already gone, but Allura can’t help but still feel its stickiness gelling on her skin, sinking its claws into her. All the blood is gone, and her skin is starting to turn pink, but Allura doesn’t move from under that shower. She just stands there, water cascading down around her and steam rising, letting the water judge her for her sins.

There should be a debriefing, but Allura doesn’t need to have a summary of the list of failures the mission is. She feels sick when she realises that with both Shiro and Keith gone now, as the technical owner of the ship, she is next in the line of command. There’s nothing to empty when she retches, and Allura just watches the water trickle into the drains. Lance is still the pilot of the Red Lion, the second-hand man. Allura lets herself be selfish. He can handle this.

Her skin is smarting painfully when she finally steps out of the shower, feeling just that bit guilty for wasting so much water.

_It’s fine. There are fewer people for the water to go around to now, anyway._

Nausea bubbles up at the back of her throat again at that thought, and now all Allura wants to do is to _get out_ of here. The air outside the bathroom is a cool relief, but the comfort only makes her skin feel tight, like she doesn’t quite fit in her body. Allura hurries to the bridge, breaking into a run across the castle, feet pounding on the floor. She runs as fast as she can, until her breathing comes heavy and her lungs burn because she can’t get enough air. She runs until her mind blanks and there’s nothing left but the walls that flash by her and the pain in her legs. Allura crashes through the doors of the bridge, and everyone’s staring at her when she doubles over, trying the catch her breath.

They are all staring, and it makes Allura’s skin itch. She wonders if there’s still blood on it somewhere in a distant haze.

“Is anything the matter?”

Lance looks like he has so many things to say, but he remains silent, eyes pained. All he does is take Allura by the hand and led her to her seat. He procures a pouch of water, straw already poked through, and leaves Allura alone to recover.

Too soon, Allura’s mind starts to work again, and she wants to shut it back down. Wants to go for another run forever until her body gives, until her mind is nothing but fragments in the night sky. There are so many things that people want, but not enough shooting stars to grant them. There has never been enough happiness to go around, something that seems to make itself painfully clear in how the Black Paladin’s panel is empty and there’s a space beside Kolivan that no other member fills.

“It’s good of you to join us, Allura.”

Kolivan’s voice isn’t judgemental. Maybe he just sounds tired to everyone else, but Allura hears the current of loss, of understanding underneath, and she knows that he’s gone through this too many times.

She doesn’t have the energy to parse through her feelings, to make a plan, so she nods, lightly, and says nothing.

When the silence grows long enough to become awkward, Lance steps up to take the helm again. He’s fidgeting with the corner of his shirt, and he clears his throat before he starts to speak. The cough is loud in the silent room.

“So, uh,” Lance bites the corner of his lip, “The mission kind of, um, failed.”

Everyone in the room winces for Lance. Somehow, he manages to soldier on.

“We lost both Keith and Shiro, and, uh, a number of Blade members. Our Lions are also pretty depleted right now. Anyone got anything to add?”

Pidge raises her hand, though her gaze is still fixed on her lap.

“We also lost the Black Lion.”

The entire group collectively exhales. The elephant in the room, the lion in the room. No one wants to handle this problem. Without the Black Lion, they can’t form Voltron. It’s eerie how similar this situation is with when Shiro disappeared, so long ago. It’s eerie how similar this situation is with when Keith started pulling away from the group, going with the Blade, so long ago.

(They don’t have a Paladin for the Black Lion now, anyway.)

The silence sits like a dead lion in the room.

Hunk’s question is tentative, small.

“Allura… I know that you aren’t feeling the best right now but is it possible for you to track down the Black Lion? Like you did before?”

“I can try…”

Her voice is scratchy.

She takes her place in the centre of the room and places her hands on the controls.

_Find the Black Lion._

There’s a tugging in Allura’s gut, and the star maps expand across the bridge. There is a moment where nothing happens, and she’s about to stop, apologise for failing them again when the tug becomes a yank and the star maps explode into errors. Allura stumbles, and her eyes widen. Red fills the screen, pulsing violently as it eats away at the screen, spreading like a plague.

“What’s going on?!”

“It- The Castle is sensing the Lion everywhere! But how?”

Alarms are wailing, and they sound too similar to the ones in the Galra ships. All at once, they fall silent, and there’s a sinking pit in Allura’s stomach. This is too similar, _too similar_ and she almost expects his screams to start playing over the speakers in the castle-

The star maps fizzle.

A screen opens on its own accord, and it’s the Black Lion.

“Hailing the Castle of Lions. This is Shiro.”

No one speaks for a minute, and then everyone explodes into chatter.

“Shiro!”

“Where are you-”

“You’re okay!-”

Allura stares at the screen, and there’s horror crawling up her throat, tasting foul in her mouth. There’s something so wrong with this.

“That’s not…”

“Everyone, calm down.”

A new voice slides into the audio, familiar yet not, like a wall just a few shades off, a shadow cast where there shouldn’t be, a waterfall that falls up instead of down.

It’s Keith.

The whole room falls silent.

“No. I- I saw him die! I felt his quintessence signature waver a-and go out!”

Allura’s aware she sounds near hysterical now, but she knows what she saw. She knows the blood that pooled under the table. She knows.

~~Her voice is hoarse.~~

Kolivan’s gripping the control panel tightly, knuckles turning white.

~~The whole room falls silent.~~

Shiro speaks again.

“Princess, we’re nearing the Castle.”

_Lower the particle barrier and let us in._

Allura doesn’t know what to do, and everyone’s staring at her. Her voice shakes when she speaks.

“Lower the particle barrier.”

~~Who are they going to let in? _What_ are they going to let in?~~

\---

The Black Lion heaves into the hangars. The Lion’s moving strangely, almost like she’s the puppet in the story Lance told Allura so long ago -- Pinocchio, something that looked alive but wasn’t _truly_ alive.

The Lion’s jaw drops open. Inside, it’s pitch black, the lights turned off — they can’t see inside the Lion. Everyone collectively holds their breath, and there’s a terrible precognition that’s hovering over all of them.

Two shadows appear at the mouth of the Lion. When they step down, they’re smiling, _smiling_ like there’s _nothing_ wrong.

Keith looks like a _zombie_ . Cuts and bruises still litter his body, his hair stringy and bleached white. The hole where his eye should be still gapes and there’s a cruel slash across his throat that’s scarred over like a hastily done heal job. Just _looking_ at Keith is painful.

Allura tears her eyes away to assess the other passenger. At first glance, Shiro looks perfectly fine, but the longer she stares, the more _off_ he seems. It’s then that Allura realises that his irises are _yellow_ , and there are no pupils. _Just like the Galra._

The come to a stop in front of the rest of the Paladins. None of the Blades followed them down.

Allura forces a smile.

“Shiro, Keith. It’s…”

She searches for words that dangle at the tip of her tongue.

“We’re glad you’re okay. You guys are probably tired, uh, we have the healing pods prepped if you need them?”

Lance’s picks up after her, and she’s never been any more grateful for him. The tension in the room is like a rubber band that’s been stretched too thin. Every word is a minefield — say one thing wrong and everyone’s going to be blown up into pieces.

They shake their head as one, completely in sync, and Allura feels her smile shutter.

“We’re fine.”

“We just need some rest.”

“In our rooms.”

One after the other, pitter patter like rain falling. It’s like they _know_ what the other is about to say.

“R-right, we’ll leave the two of you to it, then. Just, um, give us a shout if you need anything.”

Keith’s probably trying to smile, but it just looks like gum and teeth that’s been moulded into a crescent shape. It’s about as reassuring as staring down the mouth of a snarling wolf.

The Paladins part ways like the red sea, and Shiro and Keith pass through. They disappear through the doors of the hangars and out of sight. They take with them such an oppressive atmosphere that the moment they leave, Allura feels less like she’s stuck underneath the bottom of the ocean, suffocating, and more like there’s a whole building that rests on top of her shoulders.

“Did you see that? Keith? Shiro’s eyes?”

No one answers Hunk’s questions, and silence takes its hold.

The Blades leave soon after, leaving seven people in a castle made for thousands. It has never bothered Allura before, but now she feels like she’s playing cat and mouse in her own castle. How easy it would be for a mouse to disappear into the empty hallways of the Castle. Every corner she turns is a loaded step, like Allura is waiting for the cat to spring out from behind and tear her apart.

All of the Paladins are touchy around Keith and Shiro. No one is willing to interact, but that fact doesn’t seem to bother the duo. They’re perfectly content in their own little bubble and don’t seem to mind the fact that their _team_ is treating them with a pair of ten feet long tongs.

The tension gets to everyone, and their performance in training suffers from that. Emotions run high, and with everyone constantly locked into fight or flight mode, there are bound to be unintentional injuries. But the worst, they find, is when they fight Shiro or Keith. Where one of them is, the other is always close by. During sparring, the other would prowl the edges of the mats, eyes glinting as the cat stalks down its prey.

Most of the time, it doesn’t matter. Both of them move insanely fast, fight too hard. The match is over in mere seconds.

Most of the time, it didn’t matter. The one time it matters, the only time it matters, is when Hunk somehow manages to fire a shot that grazes the side of Shiro’s arm. Keith is on Hunk in an instant, all teeth and claws, all sharp nails that aim to kill.

They barely manage to pull Keith off, even as Hunk lies in shreds. Shiro and Keith slip off on their own as the rest of the Paladins struggle to get Hunk to the medical bay.

It takes two full quintants for the cryopod to heal him.

The savagery at which they fall at the training bots is disturbing. No holds barred, it’s all out. Wires and parts scattered across the training deck, decapitated heads like marbles upon the floor and ripped up spines dangling across the light fixtures. The parts are programmed to disappear on its own -- the training bots are just solid holograms -- but somehow, they stay on. Pidge goes through each individual system ten times to find out what’s wrong, but the only error she can find is that technically, the bots are still _active_ . Somehow, even though they’re in pieces, the Castle thinks that the programming is still engaged, like something is keeping it _alive_.

Pidge isn’t able to disable it.

Their only solution is to dispose of the robotic parts. Once it is far enough away from the castle, the bots will automatically lose its connection to the Castle and dissipate. They have to do this so many times that the idea of disabling the training bots altogether is discussed and goes through.

It doesn’t matter.

The robotic parts still come back, but now, every time the Castle touches down on a planet, the parts start leaking blood instead. Locals keep disappearing, and pretty soon the Castle stops landing on planets at all. Even then, it’s like someone has acquired a taste for gore because the blood doesn’t stop flowing. Lance vows that he once saw a body dangling in the training deck in place of a punching bag, but when they go back the next morning, there’s nothing there.

Coran refuses to clean the Black Lion’s hangar anymore.

“There’s sometime wrong with it. Every time I enter, it’s like a thousand ghosts are staring at my back. The air always smells strange, and I keep feeling like there are bodies that are piling on top of me. And-”

He pauses, and his eyes dart around.

“ _The Black Lion_ feels like a dead body in the middle of the room. It’s so _cold_ there and I keep feeling like I’m in a morgue.”

The lights flicker overhead. Allura swears that the temperature drops by a few degrees, swears that she sees ice creep along the side of the wall. She blinks, and everything’s back to normal, but Coran is gone.

No one sees him around for hours, and by then, they’re sending search parties out in pairs.

Pidge and Hunk find Coran inside a box in the Black Lion’s hangar, barely breathing and freezing cold. Shiro and Keith are strangely missing the entire time this goes down.

Allura sets up a watch in the medical bay as Coran recovers. Everyone must travel in pairs. No one speaks of Shiro and Keith.

They’re like ghosts in the Castle, always showing up where no one expects them to be. Making out in the corner around the Yellow Lion’s hangars, staring blankly out into space at the window in the archive rooms, sitting stock still, together, always together, at the dining table at three in the morning.

Everyone must travel in pairs.

Things start disappearing, things start showing up where they shouldn’t be, the whole issue with the bots, and Allura starts feeling exactly like the time Alfor’s ghost haunted the Castle’s walls.

It takes another week before everyone cracks. They hold a meeting and the vote is unanimous. Something _needs_ to be done before an entire planet’s population disappears, before _they_ disappear and the universe is left undefended.

~~Something needs to be done before they all go insane.~~

Everyone is gathered in the same room, and Shiro and Keith are the live grenades that sit on the table in front of them, that sit on the couch with them.

Hunk starts.

“So, um, Keith, Shiro. We’ve been discussing about uh, some problems we’ve been having in the Castle.”

Keith doesn’t blink.

“Blood’s been appearing in our training equipment. And people’s been disappearing.”

Shiro’s gaze is empty.

“We’ve all thought about it, and we think that the both of you are behind it.”

No one breathes.

Shiro rises slowly, a smile that sits crooked breaking across his face.

“Why would you think that?”

His words are slow, all just empty concern, a psychiatric doctor talking to his inmates in an asylum, a cat to a mouse.

“W-well, it all just makes _sense_. Every time the bloody robots show up in the training deck, the Black Lion’s always recorded to have left the hangar, every time we get close to you guys, strange shit’s been happening, and-”

Allura cuts off Hunk’s rambling.

“The two of you haven’t been acting like yourselves. Not since you guys came back from the mission to retrieve Keith.”

Her hand is shaking.

“Keith _died_. He shouldn’t be here.”

They all stare at the grenade in the room, mere seconds from exploding.

Keith stands up next to Shiro. All gums and sharp teeth, mouth twisted to a convoluted shape. He’s smiling.

Shiro’s still smiling.

“Darling, looks like they don’t want us here anymore.”

“Such a pity.”

“We can’t force them to let us stay here.”

“No, we’ll have to find another home.”

Allura sees the glint of metal in Keith’s hand.

It’s all over before she can even shout a warning. The blunt side of Keith’s knife slams into the back of her head, and Allura’s down.

Her vision is hazy, blobs of red and black that sway just out of reach.

_“We don’t have anything against you guys, of course. You were just in our way. Don’t worry.”_

_“We’ll move on, then. Just stay out of our business and I assure you, we won’t bother any of you.”_

Can’t move her body. Limbs are so heavy.

Everything slips through her fingers, and into darkness.

\---

There’s a throbbing in her head when she wakes. Allura is still sprawled across the floor, just like the others. Around her, the others are waking up with groans, rubbing their temples.

“What happened…?”

Allura slowly gets to her feet, leaning into the couch. Her ears are ringing, and the room is spinning in lazy circles. It’s bad — she probably has a concussion.

“Is everyone alright?”

A few grumbled affirmatives, and then the fog on her brain suddenly lifts.

Allura’s head pounds in protest as she jerks her head up, panic clearing her confusion.

“Keith- Shiro- I think they took the Black Lion!”

“Oh, _no._ ”

They all race to the hangars, but Allura already senses the answers before they see it.

The Black Lion is gone.

The rest of the day is a haze, half a varga in the cryopods for the concussion, half a varga to look after everyone else, then vargas used calling the Blades. What can be said is said over the transmission, and Kolivan promises to come down as soon as he is able to.

And he does, vargas after. He comes with the news that something has been slowly chipping away bits of the empire’s defence, attacking different parts of the Galra empire, mostly strategic military locations for the Galra but interspaced with planets of completely innocent people. He comes with the news that eyewitness reports have stated that the mysterious entity is black, huge, and looks suspiciously like the Black Voltron Lion.

The red bayard is missing with the black bayard, and they settle the issue of weapons for Lance. All he is left with is a sword, and no matter what they try, none of them quite seem to fit right.

~~Someone else usually wields the sword, after all.~~

Vargas after, and sleep.

Allura can’t sleep. She hasn’t been able to sleep easily for a long time now, and tonight it eludes her especially so. Tossing in bed makes the springs creak, and she can hear the mice grumbling in their baskets at the noise.

The room is silent. She doesn’t hear the mice. There are chills that dance lightly across her spine, a lump Allura can’t swallow. Slowly, slowly, she gets off the bed, and the springs don’t creak. She’s alone in her room, but still she tiptoes over to her dresser, like she’s walking around the outside of an open lion’s enclosure. Allura doesn’t know where’s the lion, and every step she takes feels like it’ll rattle the bars of the cage and the lion will descend upon her.

She tiptoes over to the dresser, and to the basket where the mice sleep. Or at least, where they should be sleeping. A final gift, mocking in the present box, just as there is nothing in the basket, and she already knows where they’ve gone.

Allura doesn’t try to sleep for the rest of the night, and spends it curled at the head of the bed.

The next morning, she’s the ghost that drifts out of the bed, lost in the Castle as she drifts from task to task. The other Paladins manage to get enough out of her to put together the story, and there’s a fury that brews under the surface now. No holds barred, and blood has stopped appearing in the training room, bodies stop appearing, and the Black Lion’s gone. The crackling energy of quintessence is gone. Their fear has crystallised into a hard ball of determination, and everyone is putting in all their effort to train.

Reports are trickling through the cracks of the empire now, through the coalition, that the empire is crumbling. The attacker is striking at every chink in the armour, a quick flash that has the Galra on their knees. It’s terrifying, because they _know_ who is responsible.

It’s hard to think that the same couple who’s responsible for the mass killings and genocides is the same as the two who couldn’t walk straight around each other just less than a deca-phoeb ago, the same couple who fell to pieces next to each other in the training room, all blushes and awkward eye contact. Now, only blood and war mark their path.

The empire falls apart, and Zarkon’s central command is attacked. Somehow, a recording of the battle is streamed onto every screen in the universe. In all honesty, it’s less like a fight than a game of hide-and-seek, a game that Zarkon loses in spurts of blood filled taunts. When the Galra emperor teethers and collapses at last, it is only then that the Black Lion lands, raising a cloud of dust that covers Zarkon’s body.

The whole universe cowers and holds their breath when the jaws open, and there’s so much deja vu as two shadows appear in the Lion’s mouth.

They’re holding hands, and with each step they take down the hatch, each step Allura’s heart plummets. They come to a stop at the foot of Zarkon’s body, a once mighty emperor, now felled at their feet.

As one, Shiro and Keith stare into the lens. Their gaze freezes and scorches, an empty jar that overflows, that makes Allura feel like she’s being torn from inside out.

“Your emperor is dead and we will take the reins. We will bring the universe to heights never seen before. If anyone tries to question our rule…”

Shiro hefts up Zarkon’s body by the collar, unforgiving in his grip. The red bayard shines in Keith’s hand, and it lengthens into a sword.

“Let this be a warning.”

Keith raises the sword, a purple blade to the backdrop of the purple skies, stars that shine weakly in space. There are no shooting stars to make a wish on.

He slices off Zarkon’s head. The whole thing is much more simple than it should be, Zarkon’s head toppling off his shoulders and falling onto the ground, disappearing soundlessly even as his headless body spurts blood into space.

It splatters onto their helmets, a stark dark red that covers the visor. The entire body folds in on itself, crumpled and small, and the whole universe is forced to watch Zarkon’s humiliating end.

Allura feels like she should feel some form of happiness that Zarkon was dead, Zarkon, who destroyed her planet and her people and her _family_ , Zarkon, who destroyed the lives of so many people across the galaxies, across ten thousand years, but all she can feel is the horror that’s wrapped her in its constricting embrace. It tightens around her ribs, squeezing out her lungs, collapsing her legs, and the video ends.

The savagery does not.

It takes a little over one quintant to trap Haggar, and she goes in the exact same way Zarkon does, a game of hide-and-seek through a dead Galra city, bodies decorating the streets as she runs from an invisible enemy.

Haggar is vaporised by the Black Lion’s beam, her screams ringing in the bridge even after the video ends.

\---

The developments over the next few days are watched carefully by the rebels -- Blades, Voltron, the Voltron Coalition. If there is any way to salvage the situation, to get through to Shiro and Keith, this would be the best position the resistance has ever been in, regardless of how they got there.

None of the Paladins are particularly keen to visit Shiro or Keith after everything that’s happened, everything that they’ve seen on the screens. Shiro and Keith are really doing all they can to squash any resistance to their takeover.

Nonetheless, as defenders of the universe, no one has any very vocal objections and oblige the Coalition’s request to visit the new Central Command.

Purple decorates the halls of the ship, banners still tattered and ripped in their holdings. The Paladins follow a Galra sentry through the ship, and they don’t run into _anyone_ as they traverse the massive ship, just rows on rows of empty hallways and silent doors. Their shuffling footsteps are the only sounds that echo in the rooms, uncertain and out of their element.

None of the Paladins belong here, and the whole universe knows it.

The colossal doors open into a painfully majestic throne room, terrible in all of its glory. The way Shiro and Keith are dressed makes Allura choke on how _wrong_ this all is. Their armour is splashed with violent indigos and reds, blacks and blues, the Voltron armour taken and twisted into something terrible, the very _idea_ of a Paladin, someone of honour, justice, courage, corrupted until they’ve become the very antithesis of a Paladin, until only _the end justifies the means_ remain.

Allura chokes, on her words and her feelings, and nothing goes right when she starts screaming at them about all the lives that have been lost, about all the terrible things they have done, about how they are no better than Zarkon is, now. Something in their faces twists at the very last sentence, all in sync, always in sync, hands tightening around each other, and the Paladins are thrown out of Central Command.

No one speaks on the flight back to the Castle, and Allura wallows in her hate, alone. Hate at the Galra, hate at herself, the beginnings of something unspeakable towards Shiro and Keith. Even then, afterwards, Lance catches her by the arm and there’s an unreadable emotion in his eyes. He tells her that no one blames her for ruining their only chance at negotiation, and his eyes are wet when he speaks.

Strangely enough, during raids conducted by the new emperors of the Galra empire, they always steer clear of bases that belong to the Voltron Coalition. Some say that it’s an act of goodwill, some say that Shiro and Keith are scared of them, some say that they simply see no interest in taking over areas already controlled by the Coalition.

In the end, they are all rumours.

Any rebellion is squashed, and then the empire’s attention turns towards the Coalition.

Base after base, whole populations after populations, millions of casualties that mark planets in a sea of red.

There no prisoners, no slaves. It’s just a _massacre_.

The Coalition falls apart, and there is no other option. Shiro and Keith have to be taken down _now_ or there will be no one left to stop them.

What’s left of the Coalition meets, and what’s left of the Coalition agrees. This is going to be their last fight, one way or another. They send out as many fighters as they are able to afford, and together with Voltron, plunge into enemy territory.

The fighting lacks the usual colourful communications that fly over the systems. No one speaks except when necessary, tense remarks to _watch your left_ or _fighters at six o’clock_.

Voltron does significantly better than the Coalition and Marmoran fighters. Slowly, layer after layer of rebel fighters is stripped away, blown to cosmic dust in a trail of death that follows Voltron.

The deeper they get into the empire, the worse everything becomes. It almost feels like the universe is falling into decay, something eating at the seams of existence. The silence that festers in Central Command has infected whole galaxies, leaving behind empty cities as bodies rot in the heat of the unforgiving stars.

The closer they get to Central Command, the worse everything becomes. Now, only ghosts inhabit once bustling planets, lively trade routes. On an uneasy trip to a possible truce just movements ago, the routes were still active. Now, only battlecruisers and Galra fighters wait for them, civilian ships scattered around them, pink snow on the ground.

The fights take something more than physical out of Allura, and out of all the fighters that remain. Not a single one of them sleep easily, and the few time Allura manages to dream, it’s always of the screams as her planet dies, always of the screams as her family, then and now, dies, always the silence in the cities that have been decimated, the lone cry of a child in the distance longing for her father.

They can’t form Voltron without the Black Lion, and each fight takes too much when they already have too little. The group tries their best, but it’s only a matter of time until only Voltron is left.

_Watch your left_.

_Fighters at six o’clock_.

They reach Central Command, and Allura feels the most tired she ever has felt since waking from her ten-thousand-year-long sleep.

\---

The Lions crash and burn.

Four Lions against one, four Paladins against two. The winner should have been decided from the start. But Black blinks around the fighting field, too fast for Red to catch, too strong for Green to repel, and _they can’t form Voltron._

The loss hits Allura hard, and they finally know how much everyone has relied on Voltron to save the day. They’re supposed to be the most powerful weapon in the universe, but how are they supposed to save the world when they’re fighting amongst each other?

The loss hits Allura hard, and so does the fear that strikes her, deep and guttural, when Black’s beam hits Green one time too many and the light in her eyes splutter and die.

The Green Lion falls, and doesn’t get up.

They can’t reach Pidge over their comms, and her silence is telling enough. It’s rage that fuels their movements, lasers blazing as destruction dots the wreckage that’s already around them, wreckage that used to be the outer ring of Central Command. It’s rage that costs them dearly, and Allura can’t think straight anymore when she gathers everything she has to fire what she’s so certain will be the killing shot.

The Black Lion blinks out of existence, and she hits the Yellow Lion.

She doesn’t even yell, stalling in the middle of the battle as she watches Yellow plummet, a puppet with its strings cut, Pinocchio as he dies.

Her hands shake, but there are no tears, no time for tears when Black comes crashing into Blue like Yellow crashes into the surface of Central Command. There’s a battle to fight, to _win_ because they _can’t_ afford to lose.

Now it’s two on two, Allura and Lance against Shiro and Keith, weaving a dance of ruins and plasma that burns too close for comfort. Keith always laughs, Shiro always taunts, and each word they exchange stabs Allura in her heart when she remembers their lilting tone, how they used to sound, how they used to _be_. Eventually, they take the fight to the ground, Lions spent and discarded on their sides. There’s nothing left to lose, anyway.

The way Shiro and Keith fight, always in sync, always together, is something that’s beautiful and terrible, like Medusa gazing upon them and turning them to stone.

It’s a fight they’re supposed to win, but the world is never fair, and the universe never has enough shooting stars to grant the correct wishes, and it’s a fight that they lose.

Keith strikes Lance down, red bayard through the chest in the cruellest irony, and he heaves up blood that splatters on the inside of his helmet.

_“Sorry... Al...lura…”_

Her mouth forms his name, words tearing out of her throat and her eyes wide with horror.

She remembers Altea’s death as Lance slowly slides to his knees,

\-- bright explosions that rock the floor beneath her, and her world lay in dust, not even rubble left to mourn --

and tumbles like a ragdoll to the ground.

She remembers soft flowers and her father’s fingers as they tickled her chin-

She remembers a food fight and the loud laughter afterwards, finally working together-

She remembers a warm hug from her father and her mother and-

She remembers a warm hug from her new family, from Coran and Pidge and Hunk and Lance and Shiro and Keith-

Allura remembers, blurry images that snatch across her vision, and then she doesn’t remember at all, memories scattering like the petals that drift in the wind in her dreams.

(A sword protrudes from her back. Dust whispers across the ruins, afraid to disturb the scene.

Two shadows walk away, one black, one red, hand in hand until they become one in the distance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end...


	6. (?)

_ aş ̕m͠an̶y̶ ̛times̛ as it t̸akes. _

 

_ Booting system… _

_ Running diagnostics… _

_ 1%... _

_ 20%... _

_ Diagnostics check cancelled. _

_ Normal bootup initiated… _

_ Please input password. _

 

//0010053500140428

 

_ Welcome, “Captain Matthew Holt”, designation #207 _

 

_ Booting applications… _

_ All applications booted. _

_ 7 new text notifications from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//open Voice Recording.

 

_ Voice Recording booting… _

_ Voice Recording successfully booted. _

 

_ 1 new text notification from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//dismiss notification

//begin new voice recording

 

_ Notification dismissed. _

_ New recording “New Recording 124.01-09-2108” created. _

 

“Uh… alright. This is Matt Holt. Log number 119, and in Earth terms, the date today would be the 1st of September, 2108.”

 

_ 1 new text notification from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

“...”

 

_ 1 new text notification from “Engineer Aarie”, designation #313. _

 

“Geez, even after doing so many of these, it never gets easier. So… uh, half a year has passed. Or half a deca-phoeb, it- it really doesn’t matter anymore.”

 

_ 2 new text notification from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//dismiss notifications

 

_ 4 notification dismissed. _

 

“Half a year ago, we sent Voltron and most of the Coalition troops to Central Command to fight Shi… goddamnit.”

 

//run diagnostic check

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 1%... _

 

“... I can’t say it. I can’t say their names- it’s been  _ half a year _ and I  _ can’t _ even say their names. I just… can’t imagine them as the same people who are ordering mass genocides on so many innocent planets. Back in the Garrison, they used to show off to each other all the time, get on everyone else’s nerves with how much they tried to impress the other. And now…”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 12%... _

 

“They took over the Galra Empire. Executed the old leaders like… Like Zarkon was nothing. Like Haggar was nothing. Like they were just ants for them to squash.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 19%... _

_ 1 new text notification from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//dismiss notifications

 

_ 1 notification dismissed. _

 

“We sent Voltron in half a year ago, and about three weeks into the whole thing, communications between Voltron and the Coalition went dark.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 24%... _

 

“We couldn’t get a hold of them, and any attempt to get close to Central Command afterwards led to immediate death. It seems like Voltron really was our only hope.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 36%... _

 

“I… I’m scared for Voltron. For all the people we sent on the mission. For  _ Katie _ . They can all hold their own, but from what we’ve seen, the… new emperors are on a whole other level now.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 53%... _

 

“Sometimes, I wonder if Voltron lost, and that’s why we haven’t been able to get a hold of them. I’m… scared.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 67%... _

 

“But we need to remain optimistic. There’s still a pocket of us fighting for our freedom, we still have Coran, the Blade of Marmora -- we won’t die so easily. I have faith in Pidge, in all the Paladins. They’ll find a way.”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 89%... _

_ 1 new audio notification from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//dismiss notifications

 

_ 1 notification dismissed. _

 

“I… really hope they’re safe…”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 91%... _

 

“Damnit. Damnit! W-why can’t I just… I want to believe what I said. I  _ want _ to but I-I just- I just….”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 97%... _

_ 1 new call request from “Admiral Conner”, designation #059 _

 

//reject call

 

_ 1 call rejected. _

 

“I just….”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 98%... _

 

“...”

 

_ Running diagnostic check… _

_ 99%... _

 

“...”

 

_ 100%... _

_ Diagnostic check complete. _

_ No errors detected. _

_ All systems clear for takeoff. _

 

“Katie… You’ll never hear this but… Please. Please, just… Come back safely.”

 

//Begin takeoff sequence

 

_ Takeoff sequence initiating… _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Save “New Recording 124.01-09-2108”? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this wild ride!  
> this is the first time i ever took part in a big bang, and it was definitely a wild ride, haha. it's hard to imagine that i started this all the way back in march. time really flies!  
> i would really like to thank my artist [inkytiger](https://twitter.com/inky_tiger)! thank you for being such a great support and for the great art!! you really made this whole experience a lot more fun <3  
> i would also like to thank my wonderful friends for putting up with me screaming at them to help look through my fic, haha. thanks for being my wonderful beta readers and all the support you've given me!!  
> this story is based off of [this post](http://the-punning-ubus.tumblr.com/post/168192135505/soulmate-au-where-shiro-and-keith-dont-have) by [the-punning-ubus](http://the-punning-ubus.tumblr.com/).  
> and thank _you_ for reading this whole 30k monster, oh my gosh.
> 
> (im so emotional right now, going off to cry in a corner now)
> 
> come scream at me on [tumblr](https://enaxii.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
